Fall has arrived, and something deeply fundamental within me feels missing. As if from the dead you called me, so long ago I gave up on our love as so. And now your voice echoes within a void previously undiscovered.
The air is cold now, and the days fail to live up to my warm eastern expectations, and I cant help but wonder if my memories have been gently romanticized by seasons past, or if this is truly an unpredictable autumnal chill. Pathetic fallacy follows me everywhere in these summer's-end months.
I've found myself quite alone, and for the first time since you froze my heart with your unexpected coldness, I've found myself wanting to confide in you alone the little details of my days, my thoughts and my musings, with an honestly only ever inspired by the purest of love.
Ah, so that's what this is.