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Week 8


Trodden over fallen leaves,
November was a month of
Disquiet and change.
Inescapable sorrow
Seeping into the ground
And into my veins.

November saw me morph
From the woman I was
To the woman I became,
Whom I didn’t recognize anymore,
So full of love and
So full of shame.

November was the month
Of blazers and blankets,
Of Pens and razor blades,
Of wounds and poems,
And of dying wishes
Blown on candles of birthday cakes.

November was just like you-
Beautiful and brutal,
Chaotic and calm.
Somehow healing my heart and
Somehow breaking my heart
Into myriad irretrievable shards.

November was what autumn left behind,
Metamorphosing, into winter,
Changing, just as I, in time.
November was the month when
I became yours
But you will never be mine.

– B.