It was autumn and my skin had fallen down around my ankles like a pleaded skirt I had become too thin to wear.
My mouth left with nothing but a tongue that had forgotten how to speak, too dried up with vowels I never said to scream loud enough,
to make you stay.
It was autumn and my body lay resting on top of the pile of clothes you left behind
I pretended it were a pile of yellow leaves we used to let our spines curve into, your laughter falling from the trees,
This is how I will always remember autumn.
How can I tell you that I feel your hands walking down my spine like the first time that you held me,
But I will keep my lionheart racing like a train until you shut that door behind you;
because God forbid, you think I am anything but brave.
I wear your skin proudly, a sweater I can never take off.
I spit the word into my palms until I could no longer taste the sting of its meaning.
You walked out that door with my skin taped to your back;
I watched you go.