Aware I am, yet so inexorably charmed,
In his presence, an eternal October, there are no other months.
So obsessed with lying to myself,
Here in this vortex of emotions.
In his constantly repeating thoughts,
I lose myself, I think of nothing else.
In his autumn, I blossom like a strange flower.
Each dawn, he fills my skies with radiance,
My heart leaps out in joy to the glory of day,
Shining with the passion of a myriad red hues.
Merrily I move along, merrily I roam,
To the cool breeze and golden leaves.
Then finally nestled in his warmth,
I drift to sleep, to wake up to another jolly October.
Still, deep within my heart I sigh,
Knowing that this autumn might one day end.
Anticipating that day, I do not know, nigh or far,
I sulk in my helplessness.
Merely a late bloom I am, not infallible,
By the end, I will wilt and wither.
Empty and exhausted, devoid of vigor,
Lying silently among a myriad dead leaves.
Yet October has arrived once again, like every day,
This warmth so irresistible, I melt in the intoxication.
Whether reveling in enjoyment or addiction,
Becomes unrecognizable, as I lose myself in him.
Am I aware? Still so inexorably charmed,
In his presence, an eternal October, there are no other months.
