it's 11:20 on a cloudy october night
and the world is falling to my feet.
the world is falling to my feet
as autumn leaves perform their death march to the ground
as bloodied shoes scatter the streets of a faraway country.
lace on my collarbones, cherry red nails tangled in imaginary arms,
i am as pale as the flat-faced moon and i only emerge when she does.
there is pumpkin on my tongue and cinnamon in my hair
and i wish i could say when i look out the window i see beauty
but instead all i see is death.
the hazel in my eyes allures me in the mirror
there are red candles in my room dripping onto the neck of empty wine bottles
i now write poetry
to keep me up at night
and i'm not scared of the dark anymore
though sometimes i wish i was
because now daylight frightens me to my core
and i cannot step outside without saying a silent goodbye.
i hope the earth does not crumble soon.
but i know it will because death is inevitable
and even the poets cannot argue with that.
so i succumb, as i always do,
at 11:20 on a cloudy october night.
the world is falling to my feet and i cannot hold it up by myself.
Posted in response to the challenge Fall: Writing.