June arrives, the heat moves in across the bay, dragging Canadian wildfire smoke behind it. The sky is hazy, but your mind is clear. How all it takes is a better connection between the synapses, you do not understand this disease, what does it want with you, what purpose could it possibly have? This isn't the way to climb down from the trees, you know.
But it doesn't matter now, I don't have time to waste thinking about you. You had your time, I gave you all of mine, I gave you my energy, my will to live, all the attention this little heart could muster was yours, and that's done now. I don't want to waste my days pleading with you to give it back.
It's summer now,
there's magic waiting in the wings,
I haven't time to think of all your death,
when all I want to do is
live.
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