October is chapped lips on burned coffee
Ashes on ashes as fingers entwine-
Ah, October, a familiar tightening of chest
A blue siren sparked by paranoid fire
A dream, a whirlwind
Ending and beginning in horror so thick
You forget life offers cherry blossoms, too.
Bring me a ***, you say,
Your lungs have never tasted as black
And the lack of light ignites the desire
To fill your getaway backpack with flame.
People oblige in October but this scares you too-
Smiles are lullabies for the apathetic and dying
You'd rather be alone.
October is songs by the Smiths and stolen jumpers
Fading scabs under fingertips
Lost compositions and badly held chords.
In short, October is ******* terrifying
And you're so used to it that it almost feels
Like home.