westward days.

the sun is setting,
and with it
it takes
last thoughts of you.

the sun takes
you with it.
next time we meet,
do not tell me
of your journeys,
the ones that
never happened.

i don't care
anymore.

you can rub it in,
but i
can't take it in.

you are too young
for me,
i know i'll
only get you hurt,
in the end.
i know you already are.

i'm sorry.
i can't.
don't hate me...

photo credit to:
julia