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Don’t you remember, you made me promises, on the 11th June, 2024.
"Meet me at the beach, high tide at 4:35.
Come to me. I’ll recognise your rabbit on your shoulder.
When the wind howls, we’ll stand here. The moon’d turn purple, and the sea foam will wrap around your feet.
We’ll stand here, until we melt into purple liquid.
We are standing here, we are floating. Your rabbit hops into the morning.
It was 2024, meet me here.”
But you don’t remember.
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Hearts that dwell in the melancholy shouldn’t pick the losing game.
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