I don’t know what to tell you now, since I promised you that I will never let you slip away from my heart. But something changed in the summer, and the breeze hugged me like a stranger. The winds whispered a song unfamiliar to me, and I didn’t know what I would say to you.
Oh, dear October, this silence from my heart is my atonement for not being good enough for you, for the wretchedness that kept me from loving you as deeply as I desire. I’ve become a stranger to myself, and I know you fail to recognize me too.
I long for you, I miserably long for you, knowing full well that I will never be able to hold you fully in my arms. But what can I do? I am just a woman, plagued by love and sadness, knowing not what to do with either.
Now look, my dolor had colored you grey, and you have slipped passed without me. Oh, October, you don’t smile. Oh, October, you are crawling away from me.
It is too late; you say that I can never get you back. And all these letters I failed to post, to tell you of how much you mean to me. My sadness slipped away with your essence, and now I see November glimpsing through the window. She tells me you’re almost gone, and that I will miss the train.
October, my feet won’t let me run after you, even though my heart is already heading to the station. It seems that my heart is begging to rest, to let the darkness slip out. I am again on my own, without you, yet you’re not fully gone.
Oh, dear October,
I know it’s not too late, and I will see you again. For now, I must rest.
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