epilogue

...and I just ended up and sitting down and writing it one day.

And it was perfect too 'cause it was the very end of this notebook

And so there was something that I was like...

I tried to- I think- give myself that sense of closure.

Uhm

So... I guess...

Context to the like, the first day, like.

Like anything somewhat... romantic happened between us, its was- there was a thunder storm... going on.

And it was just like- we were just sitting there like. Just watching it.

Like...[laughs]

No, it was- I was very- yeah, like , we were just sitting there on his porch or like, like.

Or inside. And just like, watching the thunder storm come in

And yeah, so that was- yeah, so like ...

So yeah. Giving that context. Uhm

You were a summer thunderstorm on my draught of golden sunshine days

Your rain and light show made me dance in ways I never had before- and oh how glorious it was

But it wasn't until you left and I looked up, the fire was burning at my wildflowers,

that I understood that you were not the right storm for me

(Although

And then I was like, “Oh but maybe it says this,” so I put a half of a parentheses here, expecting me to like ... finish it off and be like.

“Oh, I could write- replace this instead of this 'cause this is like how my brain edits as I'm writing.

But I never closed this parentheses and kind of went from here

So this is like. This is why I'm explaining why it doesn't make sense

Your rain did not quench my thirst, but oh, how I danced

Swaying and leaping in new ways I never thought possible

Drenched, and with my eyes and arms turns toward- turned toward the sky

I begged for more of the light show and beat- and,

and bone- haking beat that were distracting me from the fire scorching my already parched wildflowers

It wasn't until you left , with me chasing after you, that I finally looked around and felt the depth of your destruction

And ther e I sat, soaked to the bone, in a smoldering field of wildflowers,

trying to water the earth and bring them back to life with my tears that were locked somewhere deep within me

As my wildflowers started to wilt, I looked around again and I realized that I was utterly alone

So I took my flowers in my arms

But as I- but as I touched them, they crumpled and turned brown, disappearing the more I tried to hold onto them

Desperation, I finally plucked them, roots and all from the earth

I could no longer hold them

...and I just ended up and sitting down and writing it one day.

And it was perfect too 'cause it was the very end of this notebook.

And so there was something that I was like... I tried to- I think- give myself that sense of closure...