Sta.sh
listen:
fall makes me think of leaving and of apple cider, though i never liked apple cider.
but i liked the idea of it.
listen:
two years ago i met a boy as fragile as dead leaves, who called me his little spring girl. (i'd always liked autumn the best.) he kissed the two soft dimples on the small of my back and told me helikedme helovedme hewantedme.
and oh, by the way, "everything good must come to an end."
listen:
on our one year anniversary we picked out two pumpkins and i drew elephants on them for us to carve. he cut his out so aggressively that it lost its shape.
lopped off tusks and broken trunks became just a large, jagged hole.
he put a lit candle inside, and we watched it flicker, illuminating the raw edges.
"what is it supposed to be?" i asked him, taking his hand.
"my heart," he said definitively.
like an afterthought.
after that i was too afraid to carve my pumpkin at all.
listen:
the leaves changed, or maybe he changed, or maybe i was brave enough to carve that fucking elephant on a faded pumpkin, weeks too late for halloween. (i screwed it up anyway, the elephant had three legs.)
maybe if he hadn't loved apple cider so much, if he had let the piercing in his lip close up, or if he hadn't cracked between my fingers like dead leaves, he would still be holding my hand.
but somehow i don't think so.
his hands are now too busy holding cigarettes. holding razors. letting go.
listen:
he left a gallon of apple cider in my fridge. maybe it is still there.
listen:
i kept my fucked up pumpkin beneath my desk for a week and propped my feet up on it, but i could never bear to put a lit candle inside.
there is just something entirely too hopeful about watching broken things glow.
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~rawr 
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