Autumn didn’t hold a candle
to this time last year’s reflection.
Days rust withstood insufferable walls;
the walls she’d built to guard
reasons to run, decided by
the toss of a dime,
resolving life’s meaning
and our connection
to what we call love.
Our existence caters to misery,
leaking insecurity through the roof.
My pockets collect dust to recollect
priceless encounters
we’d shared last October.
Lost memories, hidden
under your tongue, so say what you
mean, and I’ll believe it as though
it happened the way you say it did.
(© 2022 AC)
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