my voice
is cracking
like the
leaves
under my
feet
no longer
walking
just skimming
the surface
is not all it
seems to be
seems to me

sometimes I
get lost in
the world in
the words in
the way
that you say them

sometimes I
can lie to
my heart and
my mind
but not at
the same time

and now I'm
running my fingers
down the window
pane and the cold
on it flows
all through my veins
searching for
words to say
that could
fill up
this space

but I
stutter
and slowly
unwind
try to capture
this untame
beat of mine
and I try
to catch light
butmywordsruntogether
and my arms shake
this cold that I love
just may be my fate

its to late
for cliches
any phrase
would've worked
would've done
what I attempted
brush off the dirt
and the leaves
that are stuck
to my knees
after falling
to them
once again





if it doesn't make sense. read it again, slowly.
its just how my thought processes.