I still remember the taste of the coffee that kissed our cold tongues when you told me holding my hand felt like home.

You never noticed how I held my breath because I knew you loved the outdoors more.

The ocean, the city lights, you loved watching the smoke you've trapped in your lungs clash against the cool, crisp twilight air.

You tell me I am your home but the tiny furnace at the tip of your cigarette is warmer than your touch.

You tell me I am your home and I wish I could tell you the same,

But I know better than to build homes out of people.

So instead, I will call you my October.

Another whirlwind romance trapped in a month.

Maybe it's meant to stay that way,

Maybe it was only meant to last until the last autumn leaf falls.

The air is colder than ever

But I remember the moments

Of your right hand on my left

And once again

I am warmed.

But these,

These are just memories.

You were my October

And I remember,

It's November now.

In our world,

Atlas has fallen.

Your sky and my landscape

collide at every thrust.

Your hands,

they caress the earth

and I tremble at your wake.