driving out to the city to see you, lights fading down its gone from like 90 to 70 degrees through the window a quietness amplified the ravens replacing cicada sounds one by one i feel every single one replacement like watching sand pass through an hourglass slowed down as if on promethezine and this is the end of my summer, just like that, trying to hold on to the moments, slow them down, fade them out, love them to death and let them run through my hands like soft water, residue. i wanted to give you something real but it's paltry like my name written on a worn piece of notebook paper. i wanted to give the world something once too but the feeling passed, and i went on leaving it behind like i leave behind the headlights slipping into the night's rearview mirror and driving into September.

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