in the fade


  1. sometimes i try to write a short story and it comes out like this instead

     

    it’s november again

    the trees push the leaves aside

    we wait for the rush of the wind

    we get this chance to hide

    in our winter clothes

    our hoods our sweaters

    burrowed deep

    like hidden letters


    and when you ask what’s wrong

     

    i only answer memories

    i only answer memories

     

    and i recite the words

    like they’re mine

    i own the feelings

     but not the rhyme


     

    it’s november again

    i burrow deep

    this month

    won’t let me breathe

    it won’t

    let me sleep

     

     

    i talk to you in words not my own

    while the sky turns bleak

    i sing you that song

     

    it’s only memories

    it’s only memories


    labor over words not mine

     commit myself to songs

    fixate on expression

    forget to right my wrongs


    it’s november again

    burrowed deep

    won’t let me breathe

    won’t let me sleep


    hidden in my winter clothes

    singing the words i don’t own

    the air makes it feel like something’s wrong


    it’s just november

    breathing down our backs