You can tell
by the wind
by fresh cut wood
all stacked to dry
that autumn’s here
it makes you sad
about the crummy
summer we had
with pine trees creaking
the raven screeching
just like the story
my grandma tells
about when a bird
hits your window
and someone you love
is about to die
that autumn’s here

autumn’s here

it’s okay if you want to cry.


Hawksley Workman, Autumn’s Here

I guess that autumn gets you remembering
and the smallest things just make you cry

Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.
You claim to love her, inside and out, but the only time you call her beautiful is when it’s 3 in the morning and I’ve already turned you down.
—  girls tell each other everything, c.j.n.