Opeth

White summer.
So far I have gone to see you again.
Hiding your face in the palm of your hands.
Finding solace in the words I do despise.
You snatch at every sound.
And even though you believe that I am shackled within death,
memories are tainted with paleness.
Crestfallen still.
Those eyes... empty like a barren well.
It was the only task I would undertake.
To reap the harvest that was mine.
The seed that had sprung into a florid meadow,
and left me helpless in your embrace.
The bond we never spoke of, once stark and enticing,
now slowly smoldering to dust.