I just want to walk over yellow leaves,
red leaves too,
watch their damp fabric crinkle under my heavy steps,
and continue down the road.
My jacket and shoes tap with the sound of a fall rain.
You said it was over,
but it hasn't hit me yet.
this path that I follow is spinning
moving with the music that blasts through my headphones.
it's funny,
I never thought I would let you get to me
but you did.

Don't ask me why,
but it's 3 AM and I'm wandering around the house.
I walk without meaning or direction,
aimless.
Like a traveller astray,
I explore.
Study the pitch black rooms.
Float through the hallways.
Gaze into the skylight.
And count the windows.
Seventeen.

Upstairs, the night-time overcast comes past the glass.
A film of blue-grey light.
A moonlit shadow of rain.
It bounces off of the walls,
illuminating the path back to my room.
Gently guiding me to bed.

The rain is graveling the rooftop now.
And the heater has a low rumble.
Safe sounds.
A bundle up within my covers,
breathing against myself,
and curl my body against my dog who lay beside me.
This rainfall is no pitter-patter.
It strikes the roof like little stones,
thunking and banging as it hits the wood.
Still 3 AM.

This storm sings for me.
I hear the trees moan as they sway.
The wind's falsetto.
The creeks brood within the confines of a dripping forest.
Outside I hear the raindrops playing.
Together creating the perfect symphony.

This night tune lulls my dog to sleep.
It ushers me into the dream world.

I no longer walk, lost and lonely, throughout the house.
And the rain continues her thunderous song.

Well, I've been coughing fires again.
Scorched the forest and frightened the owls from their burrows---
they fly across the sky like rushing stars.
And the deer, like schools of fish, scatter between the melting trees,
as waves of fire swallow the space behind them.
This is destruction.
Love is destruction.
I don't want to destroy anymore.
But you kiss me, and my heart ignites,
followed by a warm tickle in my throat.
Oh god.
Small sparks escape my mouth,
and float up to the sky like paper lanterns.
“Don’t you dare,” I tell myself.
But the coughing starts again,
and you disappear into the flames---
as I expel them from my lungs.

Just stab me in the heart for christ's sake!
Laugh while the blood curdles,
and watch it settle in the grooves of our hardwood floor.
Like scarlet veins against an old oak skin.
But you wouldn't like that.
Messes never were your thing,
So you'll hope it washes away.
But maybe it might stain.
God I hope it stains!
I hope it sticks to your skin,
like dry sweat and pool chlorine.
And I’ll let you sit there, gooey and regretful,
in the syrupy ichor of my punctured heart.
Then I'll laugh.
I'll just laugh,
and laugh,
and laugh.
Because you made a mess you couldn't clean up.
And that annoys the **** out of you.