One Year, Three Autumns

On what day shall I weep?
I broke my collar bone
and you stepped upon
my dandelions yesterday.
Tomorrow,
you'll be gone...
like time,
sunsets,
shadows,
and reveries.

I won't be expecting
our professor to rant about
labor relations again
nor I'll be expecting you
to barge in the room
with your false boldness
that manages to calm
the butterflies wreaking havoc
in my chest.

False hopes
and foolish dreams...
I should have known
they're poisonous.

Nobody's ever tired
of chasing hummingbirds,
and no one's ever tried
chasing autumn clouds.

You are my lofty environment,
the dewdrops that glisten softly
on the window glass at dawn.
I'm afraid I'm going to lose you.
Thoughts of you not coming back
were looming in my head
while drinking
my second cup of coffee--
caffenaited--
my collar bone is caffenaited.

There are no marks on the calendar
nor sticky notes on my forehead.
I might take the train today
and be back by foot
when it's 5:15 PM...
but you won't be holding
the door open.

False hopes
and foolish dreams...
I know they're poisonous,
but I'll still cling to them.