Leaves fall onto dirt floors
Autumn winds smell of fresh air and the cold

Thunderstorms rage asking for war
Trees turn bare; naked, yet bold

The skies turn a clear blue that I adore
And the child, not yet grown up, feels old

Your sweatshirt smells of smoke and laundry detergent, just like you

I am a book
worn out and torn
read so many times the pages are creased
many have heard my story
few have read it all
but each word is meant for me
to speak before I fall

Sometimes my eyes cloud with anxiety
Everything feels so imperfect
I try and connect with you but I’m in another world.

Sometimes you are lost in your thoughts
silent and observing
I told you I need attention, but you cannot always provide it.

Our insecurities manifest themselves
into our thoughts

Even on those distant days where I am sad and you are far away
I remind myself that my feelings are not always what they seem

I pick myself back up and learn to breathe on my own
So I can hold your hand again and you can let your thoughts be known.

Innocence is lost
in my hasty decisions

I regret every step I took

but the past cannot be undone
the steps are already made

it will never be the same.

Ugly and deformed I am beheaded
by the better version of me.

Before I knew of my sins.

Before I knew of my shame.