When winter turns to spring, I feel that familiar resentment over the change that I hardly feel anything again until autumn -which I love so much, when all thoughts turn to death and the dying...
But I always think it unfair, this horror of death, when in autumn and winter things do bloom and do grow -and don't we human beings continue? Don't we go on? Even the hibernating bear in winter will wake again.
It is the Spring that is the liar. But so am I, who thinks I don't love you, but here I am again -seduced. You inveigle with promises I've heard before but not realized I'd missed. You give me a different way to see and different ways to feel, so when you touch my skin, all my protests fly out the window.
But even as I give in, I know this will end. And this is why Spring is a liar. In autumn and in winter, one has nothing but secrets and truths -and always the hidden beginning of things. But in the spring and then in the summer, when you are busy having wine with a friend at a sidewalk café, when the sun warm on your skin you think everything is going to last forever -the world is in fact falling apart beneath your feet.
But this is the lie that we always want, for the truths are hard to take.
In the winter, when you feel the cold sun will never shine again, and the planet is laid bare to you, you just close your eyes and pray for the soft green lie that spring will bring.
So you have given into its warm embrace, like the maiden in the burning coffin. And I do too. So many times.
And you thought you were friends, and you thought you were lovers, but you couldn't survive the winter, when the nights stretched out and the darkness fell and you discovered harsh truths about this life that you thought was so fresh.
But you kept chewing on it, and it only made you sick, but you’ve already given too much of your self-worth and dignity to stop gnawing on something that at worst may only kill you.
But I am a liar too. and today, as I walking in the spring sun, too warm by far to be honest, there was something about the day that I liked. Something about those colors. And, abruptly, I realized that I am a liar too.
And it doesn't feel good, and yet it does.
and you thought that I loved you
every time I looked in your eyes
I love you
and you thought that I meant it
that I really loved you
and I did
I really did
but only in the spring
and maybe even as long the summer
you are a liar too
what does it mean when you say it too
I love you