This mid-june day feels more like fall;
the sweltering summer heat masked by a peaceful breeze
gently touching every grave's bouquet.
It feels more like the days when you were mine,
and we faced the twisted world hand in hand.
Nostalgia gets the best of me...every time.
Now I can taste your scent in this pseudo-fall air
and remember the way your eyes felt meeting mine.
Now I wander through homes of a hundred ghosts,
with the ghost of what we used to be on my back.
Tears shed without warning,
this cemetery feeling more and more like home.