dolor.

The end of my world is now defined as a quiet thought, locked within. Quiet memories flash before my eyes but I can't think of them now. He is far away whilst she is so near; the end of together, the end of an expression. I am rooted near the willow, singular, with my head hung low. I see the blanket of stars, though. Merely my hope in a shepherd and my time here. I see a beauty in the light of day, but more so in the solace of night. A smile, I'll put on. My birthday draws near, my birth day.