In a summer top, on an empty beach
She clutches her bite-marked pen between her teeth
And presses her back into the sticks and reeds
She gathered in romantic mimicry
Just let it go
Oh, I know it hurts
But let it go
It’s hard to admit you’re not as tragic as you think
Her open notebook lies between her feet
she squeezes her eyes shut tight so all she sees
are bursts of red and gold that flicker in the heat
while empty pages shuffle in the breeze
