it was secret crushes, and skinned knee sidewalks,

we had summer, shackled down like a ghost,

 haunting the wide open windows of this house like a slow breeze,

I was an easy kill,

I was drunk on youth this time,

you tried to teach me how to grow willow tree,

had me, standing sapling all branches and green leaves,

I wanted you to cut me down,

wanted you to count the rings inside my spine,

one for every winter,

and carve your name into my side,

instead you called me apple,

you orchard your way to my core,

I tried spitting seeds,

so you attempted to swallow me whole,

till i started tasting like september,

then you left,

playing house fly for bored rooms,

as always, you’re skipping the silence,

moving in for the middle of the noise.

by then, the season was wilting,

summer exhaled,

l leaving footprint to haunt my window pane,

a sick sunny reminder that I am older,

I am older still.