Deep crimson leaves
spiral down, down, down
and I feel myself fall
with them.
A bloody carpet underfoot,
a haemorrhage somewhere inside,
here comes winter
again.

Cold drapes itself over my skin,
bites at fingertips
and the thickest jumper cannot warm
my heart.
I wrap myself up so tight,
layer over all the scars
but somehow I'm still so exposed.

How could you?

Echoes buffet me with the wind
that pushes through 
all my sweet pretence,
all the insulation of deceit.
I lie, lie, lie,
it's the only way I know
to hold together what little might
remain.

There is sunshine.
There are golden rays that peek
through cloudy curtains and
I glow.
Pulse alive with light,
face unfrozen,
it's easy to smile.
I see golden trees
and breathe crisp, clean air.
Inside, outside,
perfect.

So you may leave me here
in this bitter autumn,
walk away with all your
childish words.
Because to you 
I am nothing
amongst this storm of decay
but maybe just to one
I am everything
(and for me,
that is enough.)