Summer

An abstract poem.

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1. Summer

 The smell of warm tarmac as the bodies of the people who died are covered,

Like flowers in the winter, freezing and expiring in their thousand.

But we have given in to summer and its hot stickiness,

Now, reaching up to the sun and worshipping it is everything.

Freedom melts like ice cream under its rays.

Rushing for the windows and letting a light too bright to exist shine in on us,

We know that we shouldn’t, but we can’t help it.

It’s fun to be dangerous; it’s harmless to be harmful.

Summer has me wrapped in the fingers of its very being,

It kisses my forehead, burning my skin but I don’t care,

To be this close to celebrity, to be this loved by fame is infinitely better than freezing in non existence like the others.

I love them, but I love the sun more. I worship the sun,

It is the very reason I exist. I embrace it, adore it,

Devote all of my time to summer and burning and dehydrating in its presence.

Such a small price to pay for such painful admiration,

The rainbow that I had cared for previously, I now cast aside,

I can love only one being, not magic or fantasy,

I will not be deceived and spend my life following an empty dream.

This is my life now, and what a life it is.

Oh, all who follow are scalded and degrees of esteem vary.

My pain will be constant,

But I will remain constant. 

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