Autumn leaves slide from common into shades of fire
sunlit groves even on cool gray days.
I wish I could put into words all the things in my heart and my head. I wish I could wax even adequately poetic on change and loss and acceptance.
I am who I am. I love who and what I love. I hurt as I hurt. I find joy where it fills me. None according to anyone one else's expectations or sensibilities. I cannot feel to impress, I cannot swallow back my passions. I'm tired of pretending otherwise to make someone else more at ease. Who puts me at ease? I do. I do by being true to who I am. I do not expect everyone to be able to keep up with me, but I am done slowing my pace. No more bread crumb trails to follow, I'll feel my crows on the roadkill along the way.
Do not ask me to explain myself. Talking about all that makes up my emotional state won't change anything. I'm not the only one who has to accept the outcome.
