in the nearing of the end

The cold air finally catches up to me in early October. Breathing it in brings memories I wasn't prepared for- times when I was not safe, times when safety felt like being lost, and sleep was a gift of the glow from a TV. The heat & humidity of the summer that had edged me on, pushed me forward into the futureless oblivion of the night, has been fully replaced now with a chill that demands longer, slower breaths. The way it draws me out and bites my skin reminds me of visions I've had before, somehow conjuring vivid images of marble column ruins where the treeline meets the field, dancing on the ground where we summoned Nyx, Artemis, Narcissus, and I wrestle you to the grass with kisses and the knowledge that our homes are built at the edge of the world, the first domino in a chain of historical events that future history books will arbitrarily revere as the dawn of great ideas, but we will know the truth- nothing now is more remarkable than any other era except in its sameness, except in how many other lovers will tumble through this grass.