it is november
and i have just given up on hope
when all of a sudden your feet are on my doorstep
(your head still someplace else. what a pity).
you don't know it yet,
but you have already taken two steps back.
the more i tell myself i am not putting my heart in this, the more i realize it is craving new beginnings
(when this is nothing more than history repeating itself. what a pity.)
you say you never want to let go of my hand
then two seconds later you drop it.
you change more than the seasons.
still, your smell lingers in my sheets
like a cursed souvenir
for the times you won't return
what a pity.