The leaves fall onto empty sidewalks my footsteps are obligated to crunch them the crackle echoes through the cloudy haze as the windows gaze back at me
people have disappeared this deserted place feels like an abandoned home
somewhere deep in my heart I remember what it's like to be hustling here yet I can't reckon the last time I was in such a rush
my slow pace shows how much of this I am avoiding
avoiding classes homework studying feeling anything other than total independence.
the sound of my dad’s guitar playing his favorite chords the typing of my mom’s fingers going through family records the smell of the ceramics studio full of the kiln, dust and glaze the running home
it’s the little things they always say like how you listen more than you ever have before or how you stopped opening my car door like how you squeeze me tighter in our hugs or how you don’t answer me
I cant remember the last photo i took maybe it was a mountain maybe my niece maybe myself maybe you looking away no matter what it was it’s the last thing my lense has seen which means it means everyt