longing for the summer nights
where everything was lost in crimson
the sun’s persimmon on my lips
possibility lying under the lunar eclipse
a room lined in silver
tapestries of trees all too familiar
with my pine right up the river
camp down the bayou
and car rides at noon
getting lost without you
an eye for mine
saying we have nothing but time
with a clock running on the batteries of another life
darkness knocking at my door
the sun is setting and i am too
one question left lingering:
who am i, to love you?
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