When the fall comes I start to feel free.

Like I don’t have to show all my skin, and my scars or stand naked anymore. No need to manicure my every muscle or mark down my every move. I can be quiet. I can breathe. I can see myself again without the filter.

It’s just once every year that I can cover up this way. Take my heart off my sleeve. Fold it away inside the safe of myself. Wrap up my frizzy ends. Find comfort in a silk scarf. Strip away my summer glow. Exist brilliantly in my own revolution.

With the water and sun I have seen myself grow. What a season it has been for grief and glory. Two sides of a coin I can’t seem to stop spending. The air crisps like this to remind me that I’m still alive. To remind me how to use myself to light up the room. Warm my own soul. Radiate heat the way I was born to know how.

In the fall I’m full— of color and easy oxygen. Free to witness my own breath again. Prove it’s still there. Count all the ways I’ve lit myself on fire. Cloud my judgment just the right amount.

I guess I’m growing up here. In this place where I learn to close the blinds. Set the clock back an hour. Button up my bruises. Learn that I am something to protect.
Something to lock up when I feel small. Shoot off a warning signal at the first sign of danger. Cover my toes at night. Close myself off to the ways the world doesn’t suit me anymore.

It tastes like freedom, to say no now. Tastes like victory, the way I shake my head. Put up the walls that are supposed to be there. Sweat out the toxins from the sun. Balance out this winter chill. Fill up with rage. discomfort. unfelt feelings. Fill up with secrets. screams. Stories of our souls.