This is not a love poem
this is an I love you do you love me like
I love you poem
do you know me like
you think you do poem
this is a would you be disappointed
if you did poem
an I have been feeling the chilling of the air
and I cant tell if it is just the fault of the season
or if you, too, are cooling
whatever heat you had for me
browning and falling and
crumbling between my fingers
like the leaves of these oak trees
in november poem
a what would I need to do to keep us warm poem
and this is also
an I may be completely mistaken poem
an it was seventy degrees today poem
this is a show me I am completely mistaken poem

she made everything i felt held something special just seem as a second hand emotion, passed down and lost its meaning
i wanted to find beauty in everything, even the broken, while she just wanted a spring cleaning
so i opened the windows, breathed in the new seasonal air and made her leave

I could never tell you
exactly what's going on inside my head,
so I'll write instead.
Drown my thoughts in paper & lead.
Keep my hands alive,
and my expression dead.

her eyes were never the color of my coffee that started my day
they were never the shade of honey when the light found them
never that rushing color of falling leaves in the middle of autumn that made you hope for something special
they were never all the things i found in them, comparing each fleck of color to something beautiful
after all, they were just brown