way past
midnight...

You killed her so many times
in a looped process...

December approaches its end,
clouds trail mountain tips...

In her whimsical mind,
fantasy meets reality...

It’s funny how we don’t account for time,
as he just finds his way and slips right...

you
no longer...

I couldn’t keep my grip
I slipped...

The rambling inside you continued,
while you sat in that square room...

she listens as the night
keeps counting down her days...

He sat two steps below her
right on his side, his burnt...

She chose
her weather...

I
saw your...