Theirs was bright fireworks spattered across the night, fading fast, sparkling, gone.
Ours was a long drive watching the moon dip into the lake, leaned against a bench seat and laughing.

"It feels alright to be growing old."
Home doesn't feel like home because I've been changing.

You close everything with love you.
I think I do.
I think I love you.

Unwilling duets sparked between us, fleet foxes, feeling and falling hard.
I remember the lawn mower and summer pastels
the last time I held you,
ignoring the tears that threatened to waterfall their way into my mouth,
salty. Melancholy.
Shaking as I sobbed into my pillow,
left as the lone wolf once again.

July broke my heart,

and I don't miss you at all.