how you lose him in seasons By sarah kate osborn

how you lose him in seasons

we lay in the grass in the dew in the summer in the morning and stare at each other. your hand is in mine and i can’t find which finger is mine anymore. our feet are bare and in twenty-three minutes you know about my father and my mother and my sisters and how i couldn’t tie my shoe until i was nine years old and everything is good.

we are walking along a path that has already been trodden down but we are alone. it is autumn and we are staring up at the dead stars that still look shiny when you remember that you forgot to tell me about your family or when you learned to tie your shoe and you aren’t sure if you’re ready to. the last girl to hold you left a couple cracks. we are still holding hands but i think you’ve lost your grip a little bit.

it’s winter and we are on the old bench at the park that creaks as we move and i can see your breath tangling up with mine. we don’t talk as much anymore and i tell myself it’s because all we need is to be together but i know you’re just slipping deeper into the sadness i’m trying to pretend i can’t see. it’s hard to believe you still love me but you promised you were sinking for other reasons.

we are melting away with the winter as it turns to spring. i know we’re not falling out of love, you’re just falling into sadness and i’m still trying to pretend i’m blind. you never said anything and i know you don’t want me to know but you want me to at the same time so i am starting to fade too. it’s may when i find the flowers and the letter and i realize how bad it got while i kept my eyes averted. the flowers are pink and the grass is green and the sky is blue and you are gone.

it’s summer again and i’m laying in the grass but i am alone now. the grass is exactly like it was that day one year ago before the sadness consumed you. i am trying to pretend it’s just dew on my face and i’m shaking because of the morning chill. everything could still be okay if i had held your hand a little tighter but i let you slip away.

By Sarah Kate Osborn


sarah kate osborn is an amateur poet from north carolina who hates describing herself and rebels against capital letters. she is trying to toss her voice into a world already filled with noise and may have nothing meaningful to say. she can be found at

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