Autumn

Autumn

the soft pink painted sky

a backdrop

to the viridian mountains

lining the infinite horizon

behind the ochre autumn trees

whose golden leaves fly down

to kiss the solid earth

on which is perched a squirrel

shaped like the pillowy cloud

hiding the orange sun which glows

like your hazel eyes

fixed on mine

as your delicate fingers clasp

my hands gently

stroking my warm skin like

the frigid fingers of the october wind

stroke my hair

blowing around when

you reach out and

tuck the dancing strands

behind my ear and

the silky sound of your laughter

tickles my heart

causing my own to escape

past my lips against which

you press your own

to swallow the sounds

before they get lost in

the soft pink painted sky.

...or maybe, everything will work out in the end.

subtle intimacy is so soft!! knowing someone’s routine and slowly becoming a part of it. memorising favourite teas and soups and drink orders. good morning and good night texts and messy paragraphs of love written half asleep. nicknames only you know. just!!! small things that say “look how dear you are to me.”

“I’m afraid of time… I mean, I’m afraid of not having enough time. Not enough time to understand people, how they really are, or to be understood myself. I’m afraid of the quick judgements or mistakes everybody makes. You can’t fix them without time.”

— Ann Brashares (via nightlyquotes)

Mary Ruefle, from Trances of the Blast; “Abdication”

Crash the car and blame the road

-Lauv, The Story Never Ends