I don’t want to remember,
this last month of November.
Gouge it from my eyes,
carve it off my lips,
scrub it from my soul.
You see,
the moon rests high,
while the tides pulled low
and waiting for that change
merely hardens the soft blow.
Nov 30, 2024
Nov 30, 2024 at 2:17 PM UTC
I don’t want to remember,
this last month of November.
Gouge it from my eyes,
carve it off my lips,
scrub it from my soul.
You see,
the moon rests high,
while the tides pulled low
and waiting for that change
merely hardens the soft blow.
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