October.
Happiness settles in when October arrives.
When the cool lungs of fall envelope California,
and burnt crimson holds tight to bright pumpkin shades.
The autumn sunshine spills through these colors,
warm and inviting and familiar.
But even so, waking up to a sky of ash grey clouds that are
ready and eager to let their tears drip and kiss my face is a sort of bittersweet I can't help but adore.
Because after those kisses slide off my face and I breathe in,
I can smell the way the rain smells once it hits the asphalt,
The crisp, cool scent of sadness becoming something beautiful.
The way his lips leave a tinge on the tip of my tongue in October.
The anticipation and anxiety was sour; but the electricity on the pink of my own lips tasted like I can't explain.
I can imagine my own taste, if I try.
At first, you'll taste the strength of coffee and the bold smoke of cigarettes
Later tasting the lavender and sweet cream forever embedded upon the soft pink of my mouth.
October;
Where did you go?
