The Fall Chronicles
The trees have lost their leaves, and the branches look like cracks upon the grey sky above me.
The trees have lost their leaves, and the branches look like cracks upon the grey sky above me.
Marble skies never look good when you're craving topaz.
The leaves beneath my feet are their own battlefield. Their lost war is never done when our wight crushes their thin threads of hope even more than they already were crushed—souls gone with the changing of the seasons.
The marble sky is freckled with dark clouds looming over me like smoke, and I don't know how to get the smell out of my clothes anymore.
Maybe I'll just let it loom.
Maybe I'll choke on the smell.
Maybe the burn in my lungs will help me forget.
I hate the end of autumn when the leaves fall and when the bare tree branches crack the sky open, because it is a constant reminder to me that the skies will not always be topaz and that the leaves will not always win the war.
About the Creator
Taylor Ramseyer
A college girl, in love and learning to love the cards I've been dealt, based in IN
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.