Crisp Leaves, Autumn Breeze

There is truly nothing that contains more bliss than being in the mood of creativity. At a coffee shop, with cool fall weather, a hazelnut cappuccino, a cute boy texting you, and what seems to be like all the time in the world. Everything seems to have a beautiful presence to it when this mood occurs. Like you can see the beauty in the simplest of things.. as well as complex. Your mind is calm, yet sparks of inspiration hit you like lightening sending you into a whirlwind of endorphins and urge to make this inspiration into matter. But I have to admit, there is a tad bit of underlying melancholy that can be felt. For me, it's missing the people I love. And memories. Oh yes, the many memories that flood my mind when I think about them. Luckily there are two women conversing about birds near and are keeping me mildly uplifted.

So since I'm in this mood of making craft, I'm going to attempt writing something... beautiful.

Explore the depths, and uncover the layers.
Everyday there are tiny prayers.
Speak the truth, and hear the lie,
Years go by without good-bye.

Haha... Redo.

The clock strikes five after eight, she wraps a purple cotton scarf around her neck and heads out into the night. She is immediately engulfed in the gray weather, a crisp breeze bites at her nose and other exposed limbs she forgot to cover. Her gloves, she forgot to wear her gloves. 'Oh well' she thinks and stuffs her hands in her pocket. Filled with emotion, she begins to unleash it. After 5 minutes of walking the cold doesn't seem to bother her anymore. Her mind is preoccupied, replaying and replaying what is now just a memory charged with sadness. A single tear slips from her amber brown eyes, her heart is burdened with conflicting feelings; like her chest is a war zone. She watches the breath come from her lips, it stays for a moment then dissipates quickly in the frigid air. Numbness has begun to take over her, inside and out. She slows down her pace and lets her knees go weak from under her as she sinks onto a park bench. The weight of her head falls back and she gazes somberly at the night sky that is dimly lit up by a crescent moon accompanied by minor twinkling. 'How could this happen to me?' she wanted to scream. That is the last thing she thought before her throat was slit from behind. Enabling her from doing so....
:)