I've grown used to my own hands instead of another's.

She wrote:
Meet me there.
Run across the track.
I never watch you leave,
Please, come back.

He wrote:
If you never watch me leave,
Then I am still here.
I watch over you, darling.
I'll be there.

I walked through a rose bush simply to find you the perfect rose
I reached the other side
Only
To find I was bleeding and alone

Summer's warm currents retreat
the advancing brisk amber sunsets.

Submerging the world under
the reign of enduring starry nights.

The maples blush as Autumn whispers
the gentle lullaby of Winter's sweet breath.

Erasing Summer's memory with a crimson brush
preparing the golden landscape's long frigid rest.

~~~

It wasn't a mistake,
pushing you away.
My hands worked for me
As my eyes watched my fingers
Let go.

It wasn't a mistake,
running away.
My mind continued
to use as much force as I could
into my muscles to distance myself from you.

It wasn't a mistake,
the way I felt.
With a heart of broken fiber
And with hands of pressured veins,
I found the will to push you away.

It wasn't a mistake.