Autumn again,
terrible reminder,
yellow leaves falling,
empty limbs, birds gone.
That’s kinda how you feel.

Even the coming night,
overwhelming dusk
in its passage
is nothing but bad news.

You burned once,
a bonfire, a conflagration,
and what has it come to?
An orange glow
here and there
in the gray blowy ash.
That’s what it’s come to.

You get this, right?
If someone loved you,
and what are the
chances of that,
they’d have to be quick
about it.