just like whole hearted pursuits leading to severed ends, some things when broken will never mend there is a solemn feeling of acceptance, it rolls in with the changing of seasons and the passing of time erodes away my mind until i cant see with my own two eyes but its not a vision we strive for more so a level of contentness in realizing that we arent where we wanted to be and never were in the first place i was blinded by the thought that a lust built love meant something more than the passing of time reminiscence shows only occasional true colors, we see what our hearts choose to feel was real all the while your face has been forever haunting, in every snowbank, as our leaves turn over but this world was never meant for you and i, so after a year spent cold, i left it all behind.
contentness, snowbank, passing, meant, occasional