This is the hard part - the part that keeps me awake.
This is the hardest part - the part where I'd come in, if I thought you'd notice, if I'd rehearsed my lines. I'll try to write them down on my palm next time.

Since I've been here, it's gotten colder. Wake up freezing, the leaves are turning. Your soft caress, content and in my memory, so picturesque.

Pale cheeks glow red, let's sleep til it's over. You'd rest your head, on my shoulder. Like now was then, and this was more than a memory, so picturesque.

I can almost hear the wind above the ringing in my ears - the same familiar scent from about this time last year.
Looking outside, the clouds that cover gray. The rain from last November may never wash away.