November Fall

A fearful gust trespasses the core of my entity,

as the calm tempests cripples inside me.

The fallen leaves of autumn rustle,

And benches remained empty.

In an afternoon of November,

I walked a path that twisted my fate.

When you sung then ceased;

when you kissed yet decieved.

A lyre was drown into its music,

but the drum beats louder;

as it eats the melody by its cacophony.

I remained motionless.

Memories are too sweet not to linger;

and our stars crashed to result the depth of my melancholy.