To Autumn ( first day of Fall)

You came home last night almost dreary
your newest wounds, they made me teary

the pine cones cut your heels
the apples bruised your head
worms crawled out of peels
they sensed the walking dead

You came home last night and you told me you were sick
sick of life
sick of falling

your once healthy glow fading
your skin was turning cool
you seem as though your waiting
for leaves to collect in the pool

You came home last night, I knew that you were dying
your skin was rough
your body skeletal
and then you started crying

You came home last night worn out and dry
the temperature dropping slowly in your sky

the pumpkins weighed you down
the cinnamon made you sneeze
the blood came dripping down
you ended up on your knees

You came home last night, crawling on the earth
crawling on your belly
crawling on all fours

you opened your mouth and emitted aroma
of the bodies they harvest by the shed
your body turned over revealing a lipoma
your palate again turning red.

You came home last night, your eyelids growing crisp
your trees still reached
changing colors, not effort
your voice picked up a lisp

your dying and I wont help you
I love watching your hair fall in clumps
your dark eyelashes migrate
your heart slowly quiet its thumps. . .

(This is a poem I wrote about Autumn, obviously, around this time last year. I still love it.)