It would be silent,
As the day fades in orange sundown—
Muted, yet violent,
Surreal—a nonchalance ghosting a town.

Among the last of Augusts, this is;
It would never bleed—it doesn't need to.
She will move on after the last kiss,
Leaving a heart bound to his stubborn creed,
A drifting soul, freed and unfreed.

Silence against the lethargic atmosphere,
A kaleidoscope of a day no more.
A yielding spine, a dying personal new year—
A wave never coming back to the shore.

I saw them; they didn't see me that day.
I smiled. I sighed.
My August will never stay.