I've given up writing December.
I swear I tried, but these lines
don't seem to care; The drugs never work.
The haze of blinking eyes and wasted time
feels like infinity. I want to misremember
those wide eyed faces and your smirk
when you said you were mine. (Words like knives.)
I knew it was fatal as soon as you whispered that lie.
I swear... I've given up this December.
My words can't dig up the dirt
to bury these Winter memories
and these lonely goodbyes...