there’s a september
which reminds me
of the downpour within

as new york’s sun beams sung
broken sonnets like
to a summer day –
how shall I compare thee?

I remember I said, I want to spend
the rest of my insanity with you

and you swore on every shooting star,
with pursed lips and a soft giggle
under the corroded canopy

now that I look back,
and read shakespeare tonight,

I rest up against
the downpour outside
only to realize –
we are all soft targets, aren’t we?

Razbliuto – a Russian term for the sentimental emotion revoking memories of someone you love/loved.