"the state of matter in autumn" by Advita Arora

As October turns around the corner, the leaves turn red like i turn liquid. And i have discovered

sterile school hallways characterize my smiles; my small talk has become

second nature as my mind ponders rants I’ve categorized myself within. 

As October turns around the corner, the leaves turn orange like i turn liquid. the slope of my nose shines like my mother's. the crevices of my heels, cracked, like my father’s. that girl, from grade 2, who shared favorite songs with me the same way we shared birthday cake. or is it, ancient phrases that have rubbed off onto my tongue, rejuvenating my mother tone. or is it, ancient ghosts that have rubbed off into my blood, rejuvenating my broken sentiments.

As October turns around the corner, the leaves turn burgundy like i turn liquid. i am condensed; flowing. but can you tell me? can you tell me when flowing turns to freemoving, to sculpted, to constructed, to impressions, to becoming bits of each moment, to becoming pieces of each person?

-noun-

self

/self/

A person's essential being that distinguishes them from others, especially considered as the object of introspection or reflexive action, a state of October.

The leaves turn ashen like i mold. my arms outstretched, an impending vacuum awaits the feeble branches, as i steal shades from sickly veins. as if waiting for barren trees and greying leaves would conceal my lacking wisdom. and yet, me is really us, throughout all contradictions, our molecules phase, melt, pretend, never forgetting each color, each phase, and each end.