Call me "Rusty"

I understand.

It happens.

Losing track of a story,

  while still adding words .

Focus diverted,

 leaving only a ghostly touch.

So,

 it must start from the beginning.

   with another story

What shall we call this one?

I will leave that up to you,

 because honestly,

  does the title really matter?

He settles into the snow,

 heat of vengeance cooling.

Feeling empty.

Smelling his actions,

 or at least the results.

Seeing the stars,

 cold as the night around him.

Wanting the end.

To join the sky.

A hand brushes his forehead,

 and he hears a voice.

"You need a new name."

He wonders why he needs a new name.

  All he wants is for the story to end.

"That's it, but it is not your time Tala."

Author's Note

Eventually, I will tidy all of this up. All part of another story.