with a different shade of love behind your eyes,
it's hard for me to not feel my chest swell.
your voice with a mellow tone in contrast to the color of the bitter, frigid ague.
i used to associate love with the autumn and how the leaves would collapse after the canopies were coated with colors of sunshine and scarlet.
i forgot that after autumn, winter always comes.
but as it gets warmer,
both outside and inside,
i find that i don't feel so phlegmatic,
like how i did and numbingly so during the winter.
because you're like the summer,
and i know shouldn't keep doing all this shit to myself,
but to no avail i find myself sinking for summertime.
especially when,
i've grown to dread the bitter chill of the winter,
and i refuse to be hypnotized by those cold irises again.
