Golden hour turns to dusk
And thoughts of you begin to pile up
I think about your lips and your hands
and the way you used to say my name
I came to try and clear my mind
to look at tall, golden grass and the winter sea
listen to the wind and the gulls cry
I think about your eyes and your shoulders
and the way your fingers felt running through my hair
I came to try and erase your name from my heart
But all I can think about is you
and your laugh and the smell of paint
and the way the sand felt beneath our feet