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September

I think of you in September when the wind carries its first real chill and summer is far behind me. Something about the leaves changing colors and the days getting shorter brings me back to you.


I sit in bed most nights with candles lit and windows open, writing poetry as I gaze out to the moon. Fall carries itself through the screen and brushes goosebumps on my skin and I remember that night we stayed up until 5am on the beach, chilly and damp with a single blanket around us. You said you love how I laugh at my own jokes and I told you I was both nervous and wanting of something eternal.


You didn't know how to tell me that you were looking for that too. You couldn't find the words to say you've been searching for years and was hoping this was it.


I never said anything, but I was hoping you were too. How easy I wanted it to be; how much I desired to be found.


September's here again and I think of you, that night on the beach and all of the words left unsaid. I wonder where you are now and how you're doing. If you've finally discovered what your heart was longing for.


I can tell you this, I'm still somewhere in between, sitting in the corner chair of a waiting room, not yet recognized.


I wonder if you can be found when you're not entirely lost.


I'm curious if you can fall in love when your heart is no longer searching.


I think of you in September and I remember your eyes, ocean blue, peering into mine, and I hope that you're somewhere warm and dry on a beach with a woman looking back at you, knowing that you're where you're meant to be; that you're sitting next to who you've been waiting for.




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