My Luck
Published in
1 min readMar 6, 2020
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.