#mysummerghosts

[sparklingjohannasaesthetics]

The warmth has died, but still it clings.

This breath, this scent, familiar things.

A ghost upon the evening air.

A whisper of a life which is no longer there.

The night remembers more than me.

The life I lost, the self I used to be.

The silence aches. The shadows crawl.

Each summer dusk, I feel it all.

And in this air, so soft, so wide,

I meet the parts of me that died.