Summers.

The summer came crashing down like tidal waves. This blue sky became fire on the mountains and ebbed a calmness in my head, while crickets spoke of hotter days. 

Evening falls into my lap, the stars creep out shyly, and gain the confidence to dance.  Half the sky is streaked in reds, the other indigo trying to wake the dead.

The dead in my soul surfaces and groans, the dying can’t hide from the cicadas call, the forests’ song. I can’t hide from these feelings at all.

Here in the clearings on the cusp of the night every desperately old feeling becomes wisps in the wind. Fills the whispers and blows away. Dispel the dead to be haunted another day. 

Summers in these mountains can’t hold me anymore.  I’m not the girl I used to be… He, you, and them have altered me. I’m not consoled by this life anymore. I can’t go back to everything I’ve always known. You were the butterfly that set my fly into flight, the last fleeting credit can be given to you.

I’m searching for open skies to take me. New trees to whisper and oceans to soothe me, to mold me, to push me. 

You left me. There isn’t anything left for me here to do. I’m taking summers back and no one else can have them. Not even you.

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