the months of autumn

september is like an apostrophe

waiting for what comes next,

an alarm that goes off seconds too early

or the feeling of ice on your fingertips,

cold, sticking to the skin,

a flower growing through the dirt

unaware of winter's slow approach,

the way anticipation feels

when you know that something is about to go wrong,

the smell of summer and mud mixing in the air

all around you

/

october grabs me and intoxicates me

like a spiked drink at a halloween party

lonely bodies crammed together below string lights

the month flashes by and memories of past octobers

blur together in my mind

the gloomy clouds float down from the sky

and slither into my ears,

they nest inside of my brain, make me their home

october blinds me with orange

and sedates me with grey

so much rain that by the time it’s all over

we spend nights pretending to be

people that we are not

/

november tells you to close your eyes

and presses cracked lips against yours,

skin, cold to the touch;

breath, warm like fire,

with every step leaves crunch underneath their feet

enveloped in red rubber boots and an orange coat

and when you open your eyes

november is gone

and has left your lips covered in icicles

unsure if the warmth was ever there at all