as the seasons passed, i called your name.
he sat in front of his window, cried, raged, and painted.
the light on what is dead and at peace.
kisses and autumn leaves.
this cold stone marks your vibrant and beautiful life.
in these pages you left behind, your lyrics left unfinished, i will write the rest of your song.
my breath comes out like mist, disappearing before my fingers.
I stand on the edge. you are not here.
the seasons will come and go. the question is whether to accept it peacefully or not accept it at all.