melancholic solitude 

the faint whispers coming from the cracks 

walking with your head down during the early autumn months 

when the breeze hits just right 

and there was something here once 

basking under the warm sun 

for what felt like a long awaited hug 

gripping your hands that felt much larger in comparison 

i yearn and search but i cannot find what i'm looking for 

you can't wish on dead flowers