The leaves rustle loose from the trees before floating to the ground. For a moment, I’m lost in the magical beauty of walking through the falling leaves with you. I enjoy the swoosh and crunch of the leaves beneath our unintentionally synchronized steps. I giggle to myself as I wonder if you have ever heard such a sound before. I’m excited by the thought of you sharing firsts like this with me. Firsts are always enchanting moments.
But thoughts turn morbid as I recognize the disheartening truth. My hand in yours is deceitful. My heart darkens a shade as I pull away from you. You don’t seem to understand my hesitation – although I can sense you know I’m emotionally isolating my heart from you. The falling leaves could represent an abhorrent metaphor for the demise of an abstract relationship.
You’ve made me hope for the one thing I do not believe in. I covet the touch of your hand and the kisses you give. I crave these moments as though they are a life force – driving my thievery. Each kiss I give and each one I take is stolen from someone more deserving.
Later, when I lie in your arms, appreciating the pale complexion of my skin compared to yours, I remember the leaves flowing around us. I inhale the beautiful memory of the day and exhale the hope contained within. My heart aches for dreams I won’t allow it to see. I tell myself that when winter arrives, this will all blow away with the frosty winds as easily as the fallen leaves.