When crunchy leaves are lying on the ground, pretty but dead, and wondering what happened to their old grand view to which they had become accustomed, I like to shuffle through them. I don't bother to pick up my feet because I like the swishing soundtrack it plays for me while on the way to my destination. That noise indicates that fall is past it's prime. Those leaves have served their purpose, no longer green buds with a future of sunny days and thunderstorms ahead of them. They're now the indicators and mascots of the cycle of life and darkness. Literally and figuratively. Fall is no longer the crisp and refreshing new kid, giving way to a long awaited break from sticky days. It's on it's way out of the house to make room for winter. Winter has been away but is now home and needs a place to stay. it's first night on the town is a wild one.
Sips of whiskey warm the throat on the way down.
Smiles become looser, more flirtatious. That brown liquor makes the heat migrate all over, outwards, all directions really.
Lips open easier.
Whiskey wanting to overstay it's welcome, but makes friends with the music.
Glances, caresses. Let's dance.
Or stumble. Laugh until we fall down. Stand in front of me, your body warms me more,
entertaining thoughts that I know better than to talk myself into.
We're entertaining a crowd, but wait, no one is watching.
Only my mind's eye, taking snapshots of the night, and leaves, and smoke, and liquor
Mental pictures to serve as souvenirs,
no regrets about them.
Of your soft yielding body against mine.
I'll drink to that~
Welcome Winter.
Where does this come from? I'm starting to feel stupid + boring reading your posts.
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