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T.R.E.A.T.S. #8 – October Chill

 

Outside my window’s blinded square glass,

Striated sunsets painted the grass.

As I walked into autumn’s gold hue,

Leaves gave the ground a kaleidoscope view.

And as branches emptied I knew

You didn’t love me anymore.

 

The air breathes an early October chill,

Currents forbidding my limbs to feel.

In theme with the season, I am a ghost,

But it stands to reason that my smile is smoke.

And on this realization I choke:

You never loved me at all.

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