the sky hangs low
with a dark shroud
as the wind picks up
and blows light away
as the ground shifts
and the trees shake
when rain holds its breath
before they fall down
in this dreary day
we walk in whispers
rushing inside and away
from the misty chill

Sometimes no matter how many people you have around you, there’s an emptiness is the air you breathe
A chill runs down your spine, making it difficult to stand straight like they tell you to
To block out the thoughts of pain that drains out the tears, I think about my favorite time of the year
The crisp breeze in the air over the dry warm day, stepping on piles of crunchy leaves
Remembering when I read books outside, the descriptive words that took me to a new location
Being able to escape the jarring echoes of my mind, wandering into a light haven for the time being
While the environment becomes more brisk and wants to lift my spirits, it reminds me it'll fade to a cold end
22 years strong and there's not much else the reminds me that good memories were made, but will there be more
One can only hope on a late October evening

Tears from the mystical sky
seeped in through my shoulder—
as I let its fervor tears
dampen my lowly soul;
he said, “hear me out”

The way it moves around
sailing toward to broaden
mysterious mists—the plastic clouds
covering most of the gleam of the sun
and the way he murmurs into my ears—
I can never get out again.

While strange stares pierced through
my core—a menacing way of
forcing unraveling fragile pieces
of my silent port, and there I
let a foreign one
travel his way through—
sailing beneath my springs.

On this day of August's chilly afternoon—
while the tears of the mystical sky
tumbles through my shoulder—dripping
my cold dry bones.