Leftover sun falls on my shoulders

Like feeling, toxins, and words;

My past.

It wants me to wear it

Like a cloak to protect me

From the future.

It doesn’t want me to acknowledge it.

It wants me to live through it.

It wants me to be it.

It wants me to be everything

That I was before,

To hold onto and grasp it tightly

Like a quilt stitched of things left behind.

It doesn’t know that it is fading away.

It is a memory,

Nothing more than

A fading ray of light.

Soon, it’ll be lost

In the equivalency of a dream.

As the sun continues its way to rest,

The grasp of past days

Fall off my shoulders.

My future shines on the face of the moon.

I feel the rising of indigo and navy

With the clustering of stars.

The night surrounds me

As I wear no armor.