months

i used to be july, but now i’ve accepted i’m becoming september

it’s okay

i’m sure february me dreamt of being june and didn’t realize the slippery slope to september would follow

i wear my encroaching fall like a man in a hoodie about to step into winter, unsure if the rain will turn to ice

it is fun

but she

she makes me feel like april, early may

the buds have sprouted and the birds all sing, the bugs are still sleepy and everything feels new again

she even keeps the ravens from circling in constant clockwise formation

we may both be september, but i’ll be damned if we don’t love each other like the fourth of july

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