Fall.

Everything falls in october

the temperature, 

the sunset, 

the leaves,

and maybe i for you.

 

you're just bones and a beating heart

and a pair of average brown eyes

just

black hair and black skinny jeans.

you were not what i was looking for but

I am cold, and a fire is fire.

 

You're a perambulating micro-universe

you have never been before

and you will never be again

so stay the night

let's drink coffee and listen to iron maiden at 3 am

let's talk about art or music, poetry or sex, paintings or the human body,

or just sit and watch the stars.

 

i keep trying to write poetry 

but i can't find the words to express 

how damn beautiful the creases in your skin 

comes together to make a masterpiece 

and even that is an understatement 

 

october will soon end,

and i will still think about you.