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.

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