[Calann]: 135.Poetry.Ruska

Around me, leaves fall
the glory of red and gold
like a crown on my head
as I sit on this throne of solitude
lined by the now barren trees
in screaming silence

The summer of my dreams
has passed too quickly, as if
escaping the imminent frost
and my back is bowed under
so many unspoken regrets
shards of broken promises

It cuts open my palms
like glass, but there is
nothing more to bleed
comfort as scarce as my words
always impatient but too empty
to paint such vivid sights as you.