Waiting for summer to turn into fall.

Hoping for this archetype that I place above them all.

Waiting by my memory hoping it will call.

I know that I screwed up and I'm waiting for the fall

but know you know I love you, insecurities and all.

Patterns in speech draw pictures of your voice.

Fractured and unclean I staple them to choice.

Scratching away surgeries I sit and rejoice