unravelling
[Attempts at translating the losses that come with autumn into the relief of finally letting go.]
Mid-September morning, peel the second skin off my face. To look at the truth in the eyes. Nighttime is for sleeping, nothing else. My hair now reaches below my shoulders. The same fears. The same gemstones around my wrist. I wear brown to blend in with the ground. I changed coffee beans and don't wear perfume. On my walk home, Big Thief plays in my headphones as the landscape turns golden. My heart unravels like the leaves; slowly, then all at once.