Hello, November
With your days of brown.
You’ve finally made your entrance
Taking Halloween’s crown.

Gone are the days of orange of October
And its tilted beams of sun.
The darkness is now looming
Its swoop not nearly done.

Death is finishing its handiwork
The trees it tends about bear
And I can breathe in the coolness
Of becoming biting air.

Of this I am grateful
For the comforts of the nearing snow
For the faint glow of sky
For the wind to howl and blow.

For but the wind is only quiet stillness
When the world is blanketed white
And it eats away at ears that seek
A taste of warmth in the night.

But winter’s cousin, just before
The bleak, colorless autumn
When the last bees gather nectar
When the last leaf has fallen

Is a calming, of sorts
To all, a preparation for sleep
And I feel sleepy now
As the nights lengthen their keep.

I welcome the rain that feels of ice
Of the days that become more fleeting
Of closeness and loneliness all at once
Of songs that await at December’s meeting.

Hello, November
With your days of brown.
You’ve finally made your entrance
Taking Halloween’s crown.

She isn’t in denial.



She knows fully well, and accepts the fact that she is in love with him; it is trying to keep this information to herself that is overbearing. The atrocious thought of being considered weak, vulnerable, hormonal…. But the truly heart-wrenching fear that hangs over her, in her, through her, is that he may not feel the same way.



She knows he loves her; they are the best of friends, knowing everything about the other, saving each other. She also knows that he loves her romantically too; the way he talks to her is enough evidence. But it is the way he looks at her that gives him away. The mixture of love and lust and caring and understanding resides in those pools of deep hazel. There is always 100 times more said in a look than in a conversation with them.



They are absolutely and completely in love with each other.



She knows this, and it only makes her heart hurt worse.



Yes, he loves her, but does he want to? Does he want to cross that line between friends and lovers? Does he want to start something, something that could be blindingly beautiful, but also a place of no return? Does he want it?



Sometimes, it’s better to sit back and wonder of what could be, instead of finding out that it can never be.



So she watches him from a distance, even though he’s right in front of her. He will always be there, next to her, for her, never leaving. But she can never touch him, hold him the way she really wants to; the way she’s always wanted to.



And the most ironic and pitiful part of all, was that he shared her thoughts exactly.



They live everyday trapped, trapped within themselves. They do not know that they can open up, reach out and grasp what they are both dying to reach for.



But they do know what it’s like to always have…and never hold.