The month in which my second love came through.




After all the silence. Similar to the lack of noise if you stood outside on the pure, muted morning of the 25th.



After the grief. The loss of the "man" who shattered my eloquent heart into multiple shards or the loss of summer's vibrant colours? It feels all the same. Beautiful but injected with agony and torment.

How can i feel the sun's warmth on my skin in mid December?

From the heat of my second Love's work.

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