My Luck

Spring love comes like rain.
Water vapor palpable
like attraction.
It downpours — torrential;
destructive but beautiful
and hopeful.

Summer love is unexpected
like a sunburn.
It hurts long after
night has claimed the sky,
but gives way to new skin
and new resolve.

But Fall love hurts most.
Hanging hopes unfairly;
reaching for redemption.
Damning desperation
nearly drowns me.

And now I’m just cold
waiting for warmer weather.

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