the worst season

on summer nights
i used to let my love
flourish.
it emanated from my being,
swirling off like smoke,
like the sweat evaporating
from our skin; hot heat.
it tasted
sweet.
i apologized, for my tongue
consumed all the sugar
and left you all the sour.
but ironically,
i'm the one feeling bitter.

summer nights now,
my love is left to rot.
it was given all away
and now it's time to
let it regenerate.
my pores are all closed
and here's the problem:
it's all stuck up inside.
no one to give it to
but no will to give it out, either.