I'm too loud.
And quiet.
And a list of other descriptions.
I want to see the lake.
The last morning together.
You're so warm.
I feel as though you're my sunflower,
And I won't pick you.
I won't ruin your beauty.

What a warm afternoon.
What a thorn you've become to my brittle heart.
Our mustard yellow tent is torn.
Our eyes cannot meet again,
For they're fixated on the horizon.

What an evening.
A beautiful moment.
What time are we?
Grow dim with me in this evening fog.
This memory is fading slowly.
You have no color left.
We have no moments left.