Featherweight Lighthouse
And if it’s possible, let me see you one last time before the month fade to darkness and autumn turns to winter. To feel your face on my chest, your velvet coat against my flesh, the smell of smoked cigarettes and a hidden habit. To grasp your face between my hands and warm your cheeks with my thumbs while your reddened nose shines bright with a persistent cold.
With that you would fade, as the homes cast their final shade, you would flutter and crunch to orange dust and your pieces would be thrown with a gust. The tears begin as soon as your gone, because I’m once again hooked on your spirit in the autumn air.
