it was the dawn of summer when you left.
i remember the colors, and i remember the air.
i see it all when i close my eyes.
there are ghosts of March everywhere.
and now that the past and my present have aligned,
i hear the echoes calling louder, a broken siren,
a distress signal.
it’s summer again. and oddly, it all feels the same,
so full of ghosts, much like a film playing over and over
in a haunted loop.
though i know i’ve gotten over it,
i have no clue why it’s all repeating itself to me.