May 07

if you were to die tonight

i would ask you 
how the wind felt
when it caressed your face. 
did you fall in love with it? 
the same way i did 
when your rosy lips 
softly brushed my own,
or when you whispered 
my name with autumns 
chill that haunted your
sore cigarette lungs. 
we were no summer love, 
rather bounded by 
septembers blazing leaves. 

About the Author: Sawyer Fell
i have a vision of what i want to do but the picture is too blurry and i can never remember to clean my glasses.