[ii.]

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autumn is beautiful,
because everything dies.

including the fire that once scalded my heart,
extinguished as we said our goodbyes.

the leaves that crunch underfoot,
their last screams for help, trapped.

the trees that cast their shadows,
the ones that haunt my very soul.

the slippery transition between the seasons,
the moon's dark halo showering itself upon us.

tonight, it's too cold,
yet, still I open my window,
letting the cold breeze penetrate my heart of glass,

looking, calling, wishing

for you.

author's note:
poetry doesn't always make sense. this probably doesn't to you. but, I like it that way. it's more mysterious.

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