Withered

Autumn is coming. The hawthorn fruits have appeared already. I pick them up, thinking of you. Handful. It’s all I have.

Do you know what they smell like? After all these years they smell like nothing.

After all these years of walking towards a house in the middle of the woods, where so many unexpected things happened, so many intense emotions emerged, where so many painful events took place, it still feels like nothing.

I think, I’ll just wait for the hawthorn to wither.

Will I ever get there?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s