I met you in Summer
Hell! You were Summer.
One season that I never was fond of.
I, a girl with an autumn-cold heart
drawing crude caricatures of aloofness.
Guess, which season I miss now!
We have December starting
And I don’t have
any fresh memories to hold onto
or the taste of your first words reviving my bones
or your warm smile to stop my shivers.
How cruel and systematic the universe has to be
to not make me meet you in every season for the first time.