After, September is a weary month by Yasmin Belkhyr .

Well, ofcourse I've tried warm tea And sleeping on invitations and disappearing on birthdays .And karaoke.And peeling oranges under the sun, sour sweet in tongue , citrus vapours in lungs.And borrowing courage .And trading tears for sad poems .And painting bright colours .And thinking about fairylights and fireworks and icecream.And dreamcatchers .And wish trees.And lavender scented candles .And falling face first in a Murakami Novel .And breathing .I've tried it.Of course I have.

But grief throws ajar our front door and ends up in the living room,

Now there are pillow covers drowning in salt water,promises hurled over casually like cheap crockery and your porcelain face.

Now happiness is so uncertain it disguises as fault lines in palm creases.

You should have seen the signs and tried not to trespass

But you arrived like Sputnik made it's way for the distant stars.

You should've known,

Sad young girls own too many diaries and have too many starred messages

Sad young girls cut their hair short

And try d̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ dyeing them in the bursting reds of a fire alarm

Sad young girls push people away cause solitary sounds sweeter than free tickets to museums of their vulnerability

They'll write loveletters for their hometown

And epilogues for their childhood,

They'll make you buy tulips and carnations and baby breaths.

There will be haikus in cafe tissues

Doodles in classroom desks

They'll make you write poetry and send flowers for keepsake.

Sad young girls are so beautiful

They will bring meteor showers down to earth's knees

And will leave you right before you call this beauty exhausting.

(They always do)

.