Lone Star ⭐
I don't really like winters, but their onset brings early sunsets I appeal to. Pink, purple, yellow. The strikes of my hairline grow into a coat. They shield my summertime from the frigid chambers, short ceilings, and lopsided corridors. Pink, purple, yellow. The empty spaces fill my buzzing head. My temples bang against the grain of the wall trying to get rid of them. Pink, purple, yellow. Hold your reins, gently: you don't want to harm poor old Stacey. And if I shall depart with something, it'll be your robes. And if I leave, it won't be by your choice but my own. And if I need to go, it'll be for love. And if I come back, it'll be for a dozen more sunsets in the edge of fall. I find love every day in strangers and friends. While sometimes it feels lonely and stale, I feel a warmth that if I never find in you that's okay.