Autumn leaves
by shell
I stand in a field of gray cement under the canopy of mothes attracked to the overhead night lights of commerce. dressed simply in a green dress and agitation, he holds me in his arms so I won’t float off into the oblivion of my rage.
“you’ll find a new hobby,” he says to me. You’ll find yourself again. He kisses the top of my head to seal me to the ground, opens the car door for me to get in. We drive off from the bookstore where I spent an hour in frustration realizing my old stopping grounds no longer applied to me. I couldn’t find my new self amongst the shelves.
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