every Fall i get lost at least 1,000 times.
the cold breeze pushes me past wholesome, usually landing me in a spot i'd know only in a past life.

if it were real i'd remember,
because i remember everything.
whether its getting wrapped up in your dark hair, or getting wrapped up in the way your dark hair makes me feel.

i've been too selfish for rationality or reason, and to be honest, i'll see Fall 100 more times before that changes.
but a person like me will get high off of the nostalgia in the air before i notice anything burning.

dead leaves fall from trees marked with growing pains this time of year.
between past occasions and now, everything is too relevant for me to think of.

if i were ever dead like you,
i'd feel less at home.
and if you were ever dead like me,
i'd feel like i never had one at all.