trees are changing their robes;
on misty mornings
I am sitting on my porch.
a book  
I've found in a vintage bookstore
at the corner of my street
is lying in my lap

drinking a tea
wrapped into my favorite blanket
and watching my neighbors
carving their pumpkins

smelling the scent
of firewood
while also listening to
Frank Sinatra

autumn, oh autumn
where have you been?

I wish I could tell all the sad-eyed girls who keep trying to love the broken ones:

it may seem like chasing the hardest love is magic like nothing else on earth can come close to the need in your bones

no one has ever loved another in the way that you love him; it is something of utmost worth, to be preserved at all costs

there is finally good reason for the ache in your heart and it is harder to leave than to press on

but I promise you this is only a lesson, not a destiny

and if you will not grow through the despair you will live there cursed in an endless reel

step away now

I will never stop running
with wild horses along the sea
wary of you, the wisteria-
devouring every rotting barn
in search of prey