i take a step back into myself  as the last golden brown

leaf crumbles into dust upon the delicate caress

of your callused, cracked fingertips.


you will find me once again, breathing down

your neck and into your ear, creating ripples

of chills that freeze down each vertebrae of your spine.


adaption is a process that you can never seem to catch

when the cool spring breezes that once warmed your smile

have given way to the morning dew frozen now into

frost.

I had hoped to find a sort of love this fall. One that might have kept me warm through the winter.
I had hoped to make treats and nice things for someone who liked me enough to kiss my face.
I had hoped to find someone who would waste Saturdays at home with me watching Netflix.
I had hoped to find someone to pour my heart into- even if only for a moment.
I had hoped to find someone I could write about- someone who would be good to me.
Hoped.