[text ID: promises made by june / had rotten / by the time august came. / iโve mistaken silence with nothingness / and unlearning it asks for courage / i know not how to muster. / this half-empty glass of orange juice, / ever-present on its throne of dust, / on this wooden table, / holds more promise than i ever will. / i, a personified you, for this is not a wall but a mirror / [personified] / i, i mean you, i mean [redacted] / you eat the sun and with your burnt tongue / try to sing songs / not about pain. / donโt you? / in july / [i] you tried to stretch the rare / moments of happiness but our feet / always seemed to stay out of the / blanket / uncovered. / how do i love something without / fully succumbing to it? / you thought you had to die for you to live, didnโt you? / you thought thereโs always a spring after a winter / you didnโt think that / this vivaldian symphony hadnโt been written for bodies like ours, . did you? / in july / you didnโt know that loneliness is a crowded town / yet /ย itโs always been bestowed upon you / to lock the gates / and turn off the lights / every night, / did you? / june made promises it knew it couldnโt keep. / but i shall be wiser / in august.]
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