My love for you is a sin.
This medallion around my
neck burns me now.
It was a gift from a time that felt
as innocent as your skin once did.
The walls are marked red tonight;
I couldn't help playing God.
Pull this pink blob of  mass
out of me.

God has made me from bottom to top.
He saved the last for worse.
He must have made me in July.

I still dream of you by mistake.
When I drive to work
there you are.
I see you in the tears that jump
out of me.

Sometimes, and only sometimes,
I honestly miss you;
but only in the heat of July.

This medallion
around my neck
is to heavy now.
I can't take it off.
It's burnt onto my
skin and the only
thing left to do now
is dance in the marsh
where I met you on
that warm night with
no name to it because
once I laid my eyes on
you I forgot all;
all but your eyes.

You're gone now,
just like the brightness
of July.