I remember the last autumn like it was part dream part nightmare. I wore dresses like I had not worn before and I did things I had not before. Bright red lipstick, heels, smoke and alcohol. A perfect cliche, but nobody got too close and I came home to read poems that made me think of you and cry.
This fall I find myself reading a poet I have not in long. I find myself thinking not about you. I find myself thinking about the girl who loved you and I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.
That is all.