Oh, What Can I Say, Question Mark

A lonely plane flies across this dark grey sky engines lingering in my head with the sound of falling leaves. I've been here before, just before it rains. I've crossed this threshold and I've written this poem a thousand times with the North wind hard against my face, and the shades and nuances of the colours of love drowning in the silence between us. All is mercurial, all breaks into polarity, once your hands were magnets, nothing can bring us together again.