The leaves are burning red
And the sky’s colors have begun to fade.
Summer is truly over,
All the moments we shared
Buried under new frost and the smell
Of burning wood.
I can’t help being upset.
It sounds stupid, but I always expected time to stop
Without you here to give it something worth chasing.
Still, I guess time
Just isn’t as desperate as me -
Even though you’re gone,
The clock keeps ticking
And the seasons change until my weeks with you
Are nothing but a blurry dream.
And while the birds fly south,
While the flowers wilt,
I’m scared that you’re fading, too.
YOU ARE READING
The Wishing Game
Historia Corta"i think that someone hollowed out the stars and poured all of their magic into you."
