Written when I’d just turned 18, a turning point for independence: 


Catch me quick. I’m falling fast;

falling through the past to

the moment we met.


The moment it changed- I changed;

but I cannot make a change

for us, not now.


The golden leaves fell far but

won’t grow green again. We

are stuck in Autumn.


No snow, no Santa Clause, no

Saviour. Just a beautiful

death to share in.


The leaves are bright- a mocking

echo of the life we once

shared together.


Making memories is what

our youth was for. But you

made two too many.


Our separate memories

separated us- a shame;

do you feel sorrow?


I used to love Autumn time,

independence, but now

it’s too much. Summer.


My freckles have fast faded

with the lack of light. I

look older at last.


So many changes- I bought

a new skirt. Would you like

it? That doesn’t matter.


I will throw the fire leaves up

in the air and breathe in

this new coldness.


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