ThePrettyPoems

  The summer of our love is the winter of my demise After we kiss I wait until you're not around as tears can't hold back any more attack, the reality that the season of us is over is more than I can stand. The weather doesn't match the temperature outside, where cidacads molt and leave their wings behind so I can take their wings and leave myself, I'm just waiting for their corpses to collect them all and fly away to another place where there's color in autumn and winter in snow