November

November is cold,

It passes with a swiftness,

If you enjoy it too much and blink too soon it’ll be gone,

This I can attest to,

I’m a witness.

It harbors love and proclaims thankfulness,

It conveys all the colors we want to feel,

And when we’re lonely it’s the only time

That’s ideal for those broken souls to heal,

So November is cold.

It miraculously resembles you,

Bonfires burn as steady as your cigars,

Smoke floats afar and disperses from both,

I wonder if the numbness in your throat gives you any hope?

Is it reassurance that before you inhaled the blackness, that you once before could feel?

Maybe you like the emptiness

And anything with a lively-feel

just isn’t as bliss,

That’s why you proceed with caution for your targets,

So you won’t dare miss.

I only had a low gleam left, but you took it all with a kiss.

With all the heat between us and places discovered under the moon,

Summer wasn’t intended to start again any time soon.

That’s just it,

You are November,

You’re too cold to mix with someone like me.

You’re identical to my father,

You should’ve spoken longer with my Mother,

You would’ve seen beauty up-close that was stolen from the bitter cold,

She was, too, once as warm as June.

At least that’s what her tear-filled eyes always told.