August



August being the letterbox to my sorrows
Or Am I Saturated by the days of August?
The existence of August overrides anything ;
Pushes me into a hallow of melancholy.

And how odd is it to be haunted by the memories that seems to be of yesterday's 
I cannot romantacise it all but there is devil 
hiding inside the silk that haunts me down.

Why I am sad it's just a month -
I am sad because she spoke to me in words , left me with happiness and just a little  pain.
I constantly kept thinking that you existed 
It took me days to recover from this dream.
I suppose it's completely pointless to think of you at all .or is it ?

I wish you were just a human to me; I didn't want to look at you with poetry in my eyes .
How odd is it for you it's just a month , just words ; and I kept all these inside me.

What if i told you I am incapable of all this.
I am unable to tolerate my own heart .
I have stitched my life like a new sweater.
Am I suffering poetically enough to bleed ,
Poetry with pen and spill down agony.

August wanted me to keep longing for it .
Wrapped me with arms of endless woes.
As the poets would say to me you're the 
Poem of August I have known by heart .

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