November 19, 2016

I wished that maybe after all

The trees would still bleed

Their colors out, in the fall

It's all I really need

The beauty of it 

Wasn't very long

It felt like minutes

Before it passed along

Are the seasons growing shorter

Or am I growing less aware

Am I standing on the border

Of ignorance and despair?

Are my eyes locked on a screen

So long, I can't tell the difference

Between the nice and mean

I am not a witness

Or am I just thinking of you

As my hair is blown back in the breeze

You are my distraction, my muse

I can't stop thinking about you, it seems

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