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Deathknell

Posted on October 25, 2019 by Torrey

I hear the Winter, curses rolling from her tongue. Her pilgrimage having just begun.

The trees are leaving me again, Their colors running so vibrant as they fade. I am taken by them

-much like you

Their red death-blossoming leaves me gasping for the scent that isn’t there

-much like yours

But the trees will return, again green and full when this journey has run its course.

This is certain

-but you aren’t

I know the seasons must come, but you are no season.

You’re a memory on the wind of Autumn’s cascading leaves

You’re the sweat dripping down my back in the Summer heat

The flower’s very own perfume as the Spring thaws.

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