The Crumbling

My bones grew weak,
as if they were covered in rust.
Just like the bottom left corner of the window.
That I couldn't help but stare out so attentively.
My eyes heavy,
Like the thick breeze that blew around the trees.
Me.
Like the wilted leaf I watched fall from the tree.

The wind blew the brittle, orange leaf side to side until it slowly detached from the stem.
It couldn't do anything about it.
Neither could I.
I observed the faint leaf as it crumbled to the ground.
I watched everything fall apart.
But all I could do was stare blankly.

The air had turned bitter,
and so had I.
the leaf changed colour
Just like me.
The leaf gradually became weaker.
I couldn't stop it. My grip was weak.
It held onto the branch as much as it could.
But there was always a gust of wind strong enough to the break the leaf off the branch.
That was you.

The leaf took a while to hit the ground.
Those were my ups and downs, The good and the bad days.
It got pushed around by the wind a bit.
I guess some thought it was a game.
But if the wind was right, it would even get pushed back upwards sometimes.
I got out of bed those days.
But always ended up collapsing.
Harder, each god damn time.
Sooner or later the tattered leaf would end up on the ground.
I knew that because I saw it happen to the others.
It is just going to get stepped on over and over again until the remains of it are just pieces of nature in the cracks of the side walk,
or mixed in with the soil that'll soon be covered in snow.
So I gave up.
As did the leaf.

My bones,
like the rusted window.
My eyes,
like the heavy wind.
Me,
like the leaf that decided to let go.
Because despite the beautiful sun that sometimes shone brighter than ever. Fall will always come around.
And in the end, the only difference I could find metaphorically between me and that leaf.
Was that by the time the leaf hit the ground, It landed softly, and gracefully...
I,
on the other hand, did not.