(Still up for critiquing and all that. Nothing is ever, ever, EVER finished. Feel free to tell me how you react to it, and how you think it could be improved. Or even, if you liked the first version better.)
Fall
Late September had
you and I lying
in mounds of orange, yellow, red
assigning our secrets
to the raining leaves,
we watched as they fell from the nest:
two hatchlings, both dead.
Winter came early that year.
Also. If you are, for some reason, interested in reading the original version, you can see that here.
On a different note, has anybody else gotten to the point where they feel like they have no outlet for saying things about people anymore? I mean...I used to just tweet or Facebook or whatever. But now everybody who I WOULD say something about is likely to read these things. I want to say something so badly right now, because sometimes you are just annoyed and you just need to get something out of your head, and then you feel better, but alas.... Anyway, I recently wrote a short story that got a lot of shit out of my head. So maybe I will just starting writing long fiction about things that annoy me. LOL.
NIGHT!
PS THANKS for reading! xo
I really like this. I read the poem it comes from, too--the difference is that every word means something. And in my very amateur opinion, it's good!
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