another word for autumn
it was whispers down broken corridors and stealing across faded staircases. it was wearing each other’s clothes as if they could keep us warmer. we stood in steamy bathrooms of empty boarding houses, i traced spiral patterns in the misted mirrors and you sung pseudo punk songs as if you were really fighting for something. we would run, laughing, from the harsh white light of music stores. outside we joined hands, folded like paper, to cover our faces from the tired sun. autumn was falling leaves and failing words. and we collected our words in puddles on the pavement then sat on brick walls, our necks bent like swans, to watch the surfaces break and the words shudder in rippling reflections. when our breath started to turn into white whispers i held gloved hands across my lips. i’m only good at hiding and i used old leaves like crisp new sheets. and the leaves turned every shade of the sun we were running from. our conversations turned to codes; i talked in covered smiles, you spoke as clouds after the rain.
