I feel myself falling apart, leaving a huge disconnect between my brain and my body. I notice this when I answer the phone, knowing it's you on the other end.
No, you did not love me.
No, I wasn't happy.
Now? I'm tired.
Tell me to think of you and I'll remember how you left me. How she had shorter skirts and lighter hair. A smaller waist and smaller words.
No, I won't take you back.
No, I don't want to talk.
I don't know why I answered.
Remind me of the Sundays we spent together. In bed with my hair spiraled around your fingers. My cold feet pressed against your legs. The stubble on your chin scratching my shoulder. I'll tell you I missed you most on Mondays. I'm weakest on Wednesdays.
I know today is Wednesday.
No, there isn't somebody else.
I'm not looking.
Ask me why I'm content to be alone. I'll tell you about the burnt orange leaves crackling beneath me feet. How the cold air sounds different than summer's coos. Why I think silence in autumn is so sad. How I won't settle for someone who doesn't understand this.
No, you don't understand.
I know Autumn is an abstraction.
I already told you, there isn't somebody else.