I am like Autumn,
full of colors and warmth.
That's what you told me that October night in your bed, your arms wrapped around me, like I was your lifeline.
I am like Autumn,
more so than you'd think.
I am the leaves that fall from the tree, dying. The colors you love so much are my last, I'm a spark about to burn out, like all of the bonfires you took me to.
Autumn is full of death, and you think it's beautiful. So am I, but the kind of death I possess is hardly beautiful.