Forgettable

In the realm where Autumn's melancholy reigns, And the rain, a spectral hand, doth strip the bough,  From the Marple trees, leaves fall like silent pains,  A woman's heart, a landscape of desolate plough. Her love, a sun that set beyond the hill,  And she, a moon, forever chasing light,  Her heart's Marple, once verdant with love's thrill,  Now stands in twilight, its branches all a-quiver. The rain, it falls, a dirge for summer's green,  Leaving naught but the skeletal truth of bare,  So too her heart, where love once did serene,  Now lies exposed, and feels the winter's snare. She cannot love, for her love is flown,  Like the leaves that dance and never return,  Her heart is a tome where his memory's sown,  In the ink of loss, where it shall forever yearn. O, the Autumn rain, thou art the harbinger of woe,  That dost foretell the end of love's sweet reign,  And she, poor soul, must bear the sorrow's blow, For her love is...

Leaves fall, love departs Autumn's chill seep in Alone, the heart starts  Memory of warmth  In the cold, they haunt 

You guys please don't reply "Yes, it's me." when I ask "Is it you?" Or you are likely to become a substitution. I do hope it is you, always.

On the first chilly yet sunny morning of fall, "Get married", "This is not life" bumped into my eyes from the phone screen.  A sign? A joke?  Marry whom? What's life? Who wants me?

I say, a ship shall be built. So, some day in September, when the world is gradually changing to the yellow costume, a ship is printed in 3D. Not sure which -ship it is, but a plastic ship will never sink. The history has taught me a valuable lesson—the ship will sink in the end no matter who is on board with me. Can a plastic ship escape the theorom? We will see.

Midnight, in the dark, search results of round-trip tickets to four different cities in the worls showed on my phone screen.  If they are affordable to the lousy me, not to mention how affordable they are to those who with a decent career and life. It never happens because no one really wants to do it. You think I look forward to a future, something they call a happy ending? No, I don't have a future. Ending is around the corner — "happy" is crossed out.

How exciting September is that it begins with the holiday announcement. The holiday date? People here would write it as 6.9 while people there could write it as 9.6. Not a day ahead or a day delayed. Can anyone tell me why? First thing in mind when the second thought was taken? Undoubtedly, YOU. A week later, it'll be four years. Those wee moments are so clear in my mind, every word you sent, every smile of you, every goofing... Who installed a memory chip dedicated to you in my brain? You chose to save it for that promised special one right? Feel free to do it, all these years were just me and the memories I fantasized about us, which I repeated again and again. Nothing else. (I saw 11:11 at this moment, when I typed "nothing else".) Show up please, show up!