Next Time You See the Sky

I’ll take the high sun at noon,

so brilliant it washes away the shadows

you left behind.

That way

you can keep your painted sunrises,

the ones others wake for.

You used to think the colors in the sky were


Maybe they still are for others,

but they won’t be for you.

 You’ll come to realize

those colors aren’t yours.

Your soul won’t be touched by them anymore.

Not the way I touched you,


I was your magic.



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