Autumn.

By Lela Smith – Originally published in Queensbury High School’s Seeing Blue 2022

As the air grows colder in my chest,

So does it cool around me,

And I feel almost at home 

Among the early morning frost.

I am built up 

As it tears me down.

It’s true what they say,

That the dose makes the poison.

The scent of pine in my nostrils

And the cool dew on my bare feet

cut me to the bone,

but in a beautiful way;

in a way that I will not soon forget.

the air is brisk this time of year

It bites into me after too long

It tears through my clothes 

and into my skin.

But I let it in.

I walk into the night 

with a blanket 

on my shoulders,

an unseen weight 

around my neck,

and I feel alive 

as the cold plows through me

leaves me an empty shell in its wake

when the wind is done with me,

I am nothing but a paper doll.

pliable and fragile,

existing for your enjoyment

parade me around

like the toy I am;

the timeshare baby,

the once-and-future puppet,

the Barbie doll in denial.

I will fight this 

until my very last breath.

I will let the wind tear through me

again and again,

until one day

it will leave me strong enough 

to tear out my strings.