Evanescence

all i can do is hear it i just want to feel it

No one teaches a flower how to wilt;
it just knows when to wither,
like love nearing the end
of its season

It's an exquisite process,
the slow decaying of love-
how it never kisses you goodbye,
but leaves so many kisses behind
as though to prove they existed
at some point
that eventually lost its way

It's criminal, yet wondrous
how love can cause a poet to steal
breaths from the heart
and reverberate them just enough
to hear its

.echo.
.echo.
.echo.

Author's Note

this just dosent feel right