Never In Spring ✓

twentieth: goodbye

Those glossy trails of gold down your back drew people in,

Like bees to honey. They fed on that sweetness, ravenous.

I had to watch them, because envy greened in my heart.

You, with your pretty eyes and selflessness.

At last, glorious day, we found each other.

I took in those days like the sugar-soaked rays of sun

Those dying days of May.

When we parted, I wanted us to be friends.

But we tumbled, fell to nothing.

We said goodbye, but I'd rather die than remember you.

I think about the weight of those words. Was it true?

'I want to be friends'- or did I want us to be more?