the fall into autumn. i’d rather a slide, an ease, a coax, a canoodle, a pillow talk i can sip wine and murmur sweet things to. instead, the surprise, every time. open my eyes and early orange sky, a dip in the downwind, a tart finish on the tongue, a different fruit. and the melancholy. the ache of ending, the transition, the dim. pulling on the big girl pannies when i want to cry. the last swim. the return home. the knowing.
i know now who i am when no one is watching. i am not so soft. all of my wounds are not visible. i am not all tender and green under the inside. i am wild flower. red sky and animal. fucks and fire and loud laugh.