Autumn is a time for the carefree
Autumn is a time where the damaged souls feel comfort in the trees and the wind,
Autumn is a time for chainsmokers and poets to reveal who they are,
Autumn is a time for lovers who do not know how to love,
The ones who find their emotions at the bottom of a bottle.
Autumn is the time where we can cover the scars and pretend,
Even just for a few months,
We are understood.
I haven’t been writing like before,
The only thing that drives me to pick up a pen anymore are a few glasses of whiskey.
I haven’t been singing lately,
The way I did with you in the shower,
Maybe because I’m always on my own and things we used to do together makes me feel lonely.
I don’t sleep enough,
I only dream of you at my feet and waking up is too painful.
When you left you left your sent on my skin and I’ve scrubbed for three days straight but you just won’t disappear.
I don’t go to all my classes,
They feel too long and I’m not paying attention anyway.
I don’t paint,
I always find my way to the colour of your eyes and it’s not beautiful anymore,
I don’t spend much time at home,
The walls want to know where you went and I don’t have the answer.
I forgot to eat today,
I didn’t realize until I got ill and had nothing in my system but the vodka that goes down like water these days.
The cigarette butts on the piano bench remind me you were here,
The still warm coffee spilt on the counter prove you didn’t leave long ago,
Now I’m here left to clean your mess,
You lovey sloppy girl.
Black lungs and caffeinated mind,
take care out there,
but don’t forget about me while you become someone else’s disaster.
It was never really love,
The relief in your departure assured me of that,
The way you kissed me was not gentle,
It was hungry,
And the way you embraced me was not tender,
And i miss the taste of you,
Not my lips but in my mouth,
We had cut the strings of emotion that confine our purley selfish selfs.
You don’t have to love me,
You don’t even have to want me,
Just fuck me like you hate me