Scars Of Summer ((better))

So cover up the evidence Of days we spent in reckless flight, The healing has no pretense, We carry summer’s marks through night.

The fairground was empty now, the silence louder than the screams of the crowds that had filled the space in August. Leo walked the perimeter of the fence, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. The wind had a bite to it now—the kind that signaled the final death of the season. scars of summer

We offered up our unmarked skin To asphalt, bramble, stinging bee, We let the madness filter in, We swam in tides of liberty. So cover up the evidence Of days we

Look at your knees now, covered in the ghost of scrapes from asphalt that sizzled in the July sun. Trace the faint, jagged line on your shin from the bicycle pedal that spun too fast. There is the bruise on your shoulder from the recoil of a dive into water that was colder than the air, and the rough, peeling patch on your nose where the sun loved you a little too hard. The wind had a bite to it now—the