After sending yet another 10 second video of my feet crunching through trails of leaves,
I apologize for being annoying.
This is the second time in the last week I’ve shot this same take,
A modern day “wish you were here” postcard on repeat.

“What?” he says  “Not at all, you’re so cute”

I feel my resolve break to a million pieces beneath my foot
as if the tree branch above me shed it too.

The first person who reminds you what it’s like to be excited for the morning
Is like the crisp air of fall.
Easy to breathe,
just sharp enough to remind you it’s new.
And maybe fleeting.

But then again maybe he’ll linger.
Everything else about him
Is opposite of the last man who made my heart race.
Which is how I know I’m not being stupid.  

He pauses between flirts,
Moves his hand slowly when he’s near me,
Casually asks for reassurance,
That it’s okay that he touches me,
That I’m okay with him liking me.

I’ve never been treated with tenderness like this,
I got used to being crushed between teeth,
But he holds my name soft on his tongue
As if savoring the taste.  

When the man from the past
Finds my number once again,
I start to shake.
I can’t tell if I’m angry or afraid,
And then I remember the leaves,
And the chill of the breeze,
And my cold fingers find their way to the block button.

“I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself.” he says.