Find me tearing violets, my love,
in a manic daze; I am running out of softness and daylight,
like winter’s cruel hours


“but I will crown your hair with these torn violet tiaras
and your soft throat, twine with woven garlands”


and I will dig into my tongue for the remaining metaphors
beneath the bourbon, until odes drench my lips,
I will stitch my wounds shut and ready for your apricot kisses —
I ache to be kissed away,
to waste away before your sun-speckled eyes
like a tiny fae in your flower basket, I ache to settle
in your dainty hands,
in lithe fingers lost in my wind-blown hair.


My November, my gentlest love,
how I breathe you in like my grandmother’s letters —
how you consume me
in curious ways
and for the first time, I am not afraid of the softness
buried and warm inside my bone marrows.


Tell me, darling, will you stay?
Will we stay
this time
for more than a kiss?
Will we linger longer
than silhouettes in a dream?

sky like combed smoke
unseasonably warm for mid November
carrying my coat
i wonder if winter depression
can be missed this year

We weren’t supposed
To come across one another
It was a November breeze
That made us crash into
Each other’s arms
Just to leave us
Shattered in pieces

i didn't have a single wish to make
at 11:11 today

There is yellow on the leaves,
they shiver in this air, tremble
at the rain that falls
around them; it is a lovely day today

Grey hangs from the sky,
droops around the pavement so wet, rustles
the darkening daytime light
outside the window; it is a lovely day today

I sit inside this heated room
and yet, I feel the shiver from outside, I feel
the rain that hangs from this grey colored
sky, I am in awe at the yellow leaves that fall

it is a lovely day today

Summer at your home;
thy embrace, warm.

Mondays of June,
those coffees with you
felt like love so true


-
....must we?

It was on November,
when you stopped writing me poems,
giving me notes
and singing me songs.

It was on November,
when your hugs
felt a bit lighter.
When before,
They used to be so much tighter.

It was on that month
when the fall began.
When the ghosts of the past,
came hunting us back
In the form of someone.

And I watched as you fell,
on the graves
of an old love.
Leaving me in pieces.

I buried you in peace,
Not a single tear I shed.
Because you said,
it would be a shame
to cry for a man so lame.

So I never did,
I never cried.
Now, the ghosts no longer comes back.
And the only ones that never cease
on hunting me,
Were our memories.

- Juju