claiming;

i sit on the cobbled ledge waiting for you to come, and i think there must have been something i must have missed, something i must have forgotten…
the numbers on the calendar tick down to the day i do not want to come, but there’s nothing i can do, and i ask myself, why must you be the one leaving, and i the one to stay behind, but i cannot answer these questions, so i just turn my head towards the sun and watch blinding sparks of imagination streak across my vision, making me numb to the thought of being apart from you.