(they Call It October). Something About

(they call it october). something about 

the dying and the fascinated flame 

the sudden snatch of your breath, tugged away. it is fair to be sad now

the sunshine has politely turned away.

you pull the box of your darkness out 

from under the leaves. the prayers still smell like pine needles and promises. 

are you watching the trees to see what dies? so that this, too, will not be you?

tender child. the autumn is coming

and you will be loved 

and then forgotten. loved! loved? 

Did you want to be loved or to be remembered? 

God. to be something worth missing. 

to be an empty space in your bed, a silence where there was shadow. 

October is for the absence.

you wanted to be irreplaceable. 

love kisses the leaves goodbye —

and the children laugh at the funeral. 

i am. so sorry if i have ever used the phrase “i have an au where—” and led you to believe that there is an actual fic out there for you to read rather than, at best, a post where i explain the concept, and at worst it is simply something that lives in my brain

The devastating difference between how much time it takes to write something vs how fast people read it lol

its so freeing when you realize you can literally write whatever you want 

Is it just me or are the irredeemable characters always the hottest, most simp worthy, gut wrenchingly attractive pieces of art?