Autumnal warning...

If she could write poetry, it would sound something like this....

So...it's like that.
Burnt down beneath a camp fire
Where it seems you can't tell
The marshmallow breath
From the sugar of skin.

To most it would seem natural
To fall in love that way
But some of us know better
Than to put our salt
Into passion

They say, it's about the talking.
And really looking into someone
Like you mean it
For a change -

In the season when skin
Smells most like the fall.

Someone should tell you
It never really lasts.
It switches over someplace
Between the first kiss
And the past.

Fall Memory #4 - Girls' Bathroom

She stood a moment, the room spinning slightly amidst the fluorescent lighting and the brightly drawn scribbles and scratches.

She did not sit down.

Instead, she stood, jelly-legged inside the middle stall staring. Just staring.
She read line-for-line everything scrawled over the years.
And she wasn't sure who she was anymore.

With disappointment as she scanned the lines, she realized...
"I'm not here," she whispered, her breath catching in the tinge of her last shot.

"There you are!" a voice called. "Wondered where you went."
Silence.

"You okay?"

...................................

"Yeah. I'm fine. Coming."

As she rejoined the waning crowd, she made a mental note to do the one thing she had never done before and swore once she was too much of a lady to do.