diM

It's the last day in November, 7:02 pm; I walk outside my own prison. Look up to the black blanket of a sky a single tear escapes my eye. Her memory lingers, her scent sits on my fingers. Outside there is no fucking stars, my pain I try to hide scabs over and the ache still resides. I flip the switch to end the game she surrundees quickly, her intentions light the flame.