Color me the leaves of the trees
As I paint the orange horizon.
These are changes he never sees.
The Sun has abandoned me
He pines too much for the Moon.
Now, I only have the memories
of the heat we felt in June.
Without the Sun, I'm failing.
The branches loosen their hold.
I'm carried on the autumn wind
in the brightest shade of gold.
The fall is a sickening spiral.
It's freedom, so why does it hurt?
I land among the other leaves
and together we form the dirt.
I'm whole with something once again.
We're death of love below.
I lay in our freezing sarcophagus
of heartache, ice and snow.
