Petrichor

Autumn Leaves

"I love watching them fall.

And how they get destroyed eventually.

I love how they get attached to me, knowing full well what they're getting themselves into. The little cocoon of daydream they build to keep themselves happy with. About me, and about 'us'.

It's not easy for me to avoid them, they're everywhere. I sometimes get labeled as a 'player', there are so many. But no. It's not like that. I don't invite them in. I don't ask them to hand their hearts over to me.  Moreover, I'm not the one to fall.

It's amazing how much expectations, hopes, love, promises they can stuff into that organ and hand it up to me, thinking, believing, I'm the one. I take it, keep it, and throw it away.

For what comes after that, is what I enjoy the most. Their huge eyes swimming with tears, when I turn my back. The sobs echoing their heartbreaks, as I walk away. The repeated 'Don't go's when that's the best I can do. Their hurt seeping through the cracks which were created by their hopes themselves.

As I said, it's not my fault. That I don't feel anything. That I'm deaf to the shatter of their hearts.

Because they're like the autumn leaves. They fall for me, beautifully, gracefully, but they're in my way. I have to sweep them away, or crunch them to dust and walk over."

—3:31AM, thoughts I managed to compile about myself.