October  attached itself to my window.
Dahlias breezed like a thief in the night.
Happy to share in Autumn's  raise.
Farsides I wish well myself.
There is a rusty red, ginger aroma.
Silver needles shedding from the hide.
Autumn's sun sunk in fallowed fields.
Daydream in a lost October
We were happy to share in its murmur,
to tailgate the night.

My name is Taylor and I have a tooth that tucks behind one of my front teeth.

I say this as my first sentence because when I look at myself in the mirror and smile, that is the first thing I notice.

But a compliment I've heard more times than once, "You have a beautiful smile."

I  wonder how many things in life are like that...

Qualities or characteristics that people agonize over are the very things that others appreciate and admire.

When I say
that you are my Sun,
I don’t mean that you are
Luminous,
Brilliant,
Gilded,
Beautiful,
Bold,
Warm,
Or even the center of my universe.
I simply mean that
I cannot look at you
Without hurting

I exist in the midst of
the ruins of myself, and
the stranger I have become

The day greets me with its
aching loneliness forcing me
to suffer through its brutal hours

Even in my dreams,
I am still being crushed  
by the heaviness of the night

And I do not know
if I can bear to see
another burning sunset

I'm waiting, chasing pavements
the ones that kissed your tires
impatience found my failures
and lit my head on fire.
My mind is racing to you
my eyes are burning still
these smolders send me skyward
and flatten me until
I'm falling on my doorstep
gray and less than real
you crush me as you're leaving;
my sweet achilles heel.
You left me calm resilience
a scent I can't erase,
rose petals drooping gladly
I sink down in the vase
and ponder you, like fresh air
willing me to breathe
and be with you again
as if you'd never leave.

I can taste myself rotting from the inside
The cycle repeats religiously
All that’s left lingers
Slipped so quickly through thin fingers.
After the teeth and hungry hands are no longer
On to the next they wander.

We run through golden drops of sunlight
with reminders tied around our wrists
memories in baskets of woven wind
Tomorrow chases us
as we chase yesterday
The synchronicity of our steps
becomes the rhythm of time
lost in the streets of reality
while navigating maps of wonder
our lives are repelling forces
that now face the immobility
of our desire for freedom
so what's left? Besides you
running toward this morning sky
and me, sinking in a shallow sea
of words and puzzles, that time built for
you and I