My summer consisted of hiding amongst the wildflowers, and hoping you’d think to look for me. I sang with the birds and befriended the bees. It was quite lovely, actually. Until the storm rolled in. Sudden white flashes filled the sky, and the gray-blue color i’ve always been fond of took over the happy haven. The rain pelted against my skin, as if it were warning me to go back; as if it were telling me to uncross the line and forget my useless intentions. What I meant didn’t matter, it couldn’t change what had happened. You never came. I wilted like the flowers, and I drowned like the bees.