My lips taste like autumn leaves,
and the wind blows petrichor kisses
to starve my smile of teeth.
And these crowded streets tell lonely tales,
like the boy who
loved me once.
He’d want me until the leaves turned green
and I lost the taste of new beginnings.
I didn’t see him again,
but heard he’s with a girl who smells
Follow Becca on Instagram at @_beccaful