Grief doesn’t fade. It festers in silence. And some summers never end.
They say time heals.
But seven years later, all we’ve learned to do is bleed quieter.
She died that summer and the world refused to stop, even though ours did.
Now the lights blind us, the crowds scream our names, the magazines call us legends.
Onstage, we look untouchable. Offstage, we’re falling apart
