I spent the morning looking for something to do, like finding
September; something to hold the most of me inside.
The cold is still biting in the evenings and makes me think
of times we spent under covers, wrapped up tight.
I don’t mind the warmer afternoons
if they didn’t mind me staying here for you and need me so much.
I miss the rain and the lightning that comes with you in late winter,
playing chicken in the middle of the fields, despite it all.
I prayed you strike me down
amongst the wet earth, pass through me, to find your peace.
I could be dead inside of you
if to just remember me.