Her name is October.
She’s beautiful.
Sun-dipped hair with the eyes to match.
Radiant and
warm.
So warm that the trees can almost breathe again and come back to life;
That I can almost breathe again
without it burning my lungs.

Her name is

Her name is-

Her cheeks would turn the slightest shade of pink when I leaned in to kiss them.

And I used to joke about how it’s only because of the cold weather,
Until she stopped laughing at that.

Now her mouth is a straight line.
Like a highway I would’ve wanted to follow.

If only it curved up at the edges, as if it were one of her favorite back roads.

Her head turns to look at anything besides me
And she pulls the leaves down with her as she walks away
Making her “goodbye” a statement of nature

Maybe if I scream for her
Maybe if I plead for her
Maybe if I reach for her
Maybe…


Her name was October.
That’s all I can remember
As my raised hand drops to my side.
Is there ever any point
Of grasping at disappearing air,
that used to be your oxygen?