October brims with prosaic ramblings
and violent velvet skies
she ties up her loose ends
and fades from our ears
as the last leaves turn brown
like a select few, meant to die young
October breathes out
and her decay is eaten alive.
YOU ARE READING
Blood Orange Periphery / 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺
Poetry❝The calm in my marrow spoke in muted bursts of fireworks. I was born for explosions and trying to be less.❞ Over the past decade, I've written poems, books, short stories, fanfiction and hundreds of thousands of words, but nothing felt complete. Th...
