Why are you so full of laughter and smiles, I cannot muster anything but a tear when I am surrounded in your ring of happiness and joy.

I find myself too overwhelmed, choking on the sensations that I hardly ever feel in the alone hours of the night, where I am like a bird flying away into the night.

But others have so easily adjusted to your warm nature, I sit on the seat ashamed, they tell me, that what I do is not enough but I tell them, I cannot do no more.

I’d rather be left alone, but only to watch you being happy, only to see your smile, your fleeting gaze running along each and every person, almost fully trained on me, a sparkle in your eyes.

You’ll never understand the pleasure of this weight that has been embedded into my heart, while you sit there across from me mesmerised.

I would rather spend my days wandering the street, the nights observing souls under the night sky, or be drowned in the deluge of relief the November nights can offer me.

You’ll never be the comfort I need, that hurts the most to say, to write. But I won’t expose your bitterness, you were the one who condemned to such punishment.

November’s soft rains will wash me through, as the stifling heats of December are made anew, the blistering heat parched the waterlilies on the ponds.

So I too, am like these waterlilies, November revived me, restored me, but December will burn me with its unforgiving fire hotter than lava in the volcano. Withering away into petals…