August 13 – Metamorphic

When the sun rose I could swear I heard a whisper of you
Some sensory illusion, trick of the light
You faded with the shadows and melted with the ice

When the clouds parted you were gone
All smoke and flames and wreckage burned out
All sadness escaped with the rain

Your being used to shine like the distant horizon
Always getting closer but never within reach
Always setting, always saying goodbye

Now I look up and I see black sky
I see you, but only as a ghost of a star
So far away that you are already forgotten

– Tegan Thuss

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