foxtails

memories i cant forget/no matter how the summer went

to create a world from dust/that is what it means to be our own deities

she holds down hands/sweetly cracked palms of which will never be hers

we all make fences/we all make roads too narrow to walk upon

but i guess that doesnt matter now/judge my heart

each moment passed slowly & cruelly/i havent talked to you in days