Autumn smells of wood smoke, cinnamon, and sugar cookies.
Bittersweet tinge of another year
coming to a close, and we aren’t talking.
Demons don’t always have horns and hooves;
every once in a while, they have pleasant smiles,
friendly hands and charming agendas.
Gather you up in coffee dates, and have you meet them
halfway between the hopeful intentions and hellish results.
In a moment, leaves aren’t the only thing falling;
just the only thing the city will clean up for free.
Knowing you still think you were right with any
lie from your magician mouth that with every swing of your tongue;
magically all the promises disappeared.
Now, it is Autumn and I want to see you
or hear your voice one more time, but I don’t
pick up the phone and form a truce of phone cords and dial tones.
Quitting a friendship is hard; especially when you
remember every good time, every fun adventure,
Somber is my autumns without you.
The smell of wood smoke
upon my nose
very much reminds me of your name.
Warped, burnt twisting of letters and
x marks the spot upon my tongue.
Your exit from my life is painful, but
zero regrets for your departure.