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egg hot pot Nov 2024
Winter morning sunshine
I feel like rubbing my feet
Her voice is rather sweet
But her lips stink of brine

Blood on my lips
Hers rather dry
Winter morning sunshine
Now mine smell like brine

Not the sorrow of regret
Nor the V of indignation
I just feel like winter morning sunshine
Dom Nov 2024
her kisses
are hot cocoa, sweet on my lips.
her arms
a fireplace, holding warmth between us.
her eyes
are christmas lights, glowing in the cold.
her love
is winter dust, a most beautiful thing to hold.
i've always found winter to be such a romantic time. i'm a sucker for a cheesy hallmark kinda love
Lizzie Bevis Nov 2024
Crystal stars pierce evening skies,
While breath clouds dance and fade away,
As shortened winter daylight dies,
And frost-touched branches gently sway.

The air nips sharp at nose and chin,
As nature dims its weary sight,
And drowsy shadows usher in
The softest curtain of the night.

Each creature seeks its quiet den,
As time itself moves sweet and slow.
While winter whispers, once again,
Beneath the alabaster snow.

Through silver webs of frozen lace,
The world drifts deep in winter's spell,
As sleep wraps earth in soft embrace,
While dreams deep within us dwell.

The season calls with gentle lure,
Through frosty breath and starlit nights,
As heavy eyelids find their cure
In winter's soft and silver lights.

Beneath this blanket crystal-deep,
Where dreams and snowflakes softly fall,
The earth and I begin to sleep,
While winter's hushes gently call.

The world grows still and crystal clear,
Beneath the serene and darkened sky,
As peaceful slumber draws us near,
To winter's softest lullaby.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Simran Gupta Nov 2024
A bonfire blaze adorns the darkness,
Warming two hearts on winter's night.
My heart pulse unwinds, in gentle rhyme,
As I gaze at you, lost in time.

I long to sleep in the depth of your eyes,
Till the rest of my life, where love resides.
No fear of darkness, not even death,
With you, I find eternal breath.

Wish my last breath in your arms,
Where warmth and love forever disarm.
In your eyes, my soul finds its nest,
Forever entwined, our love will rest.
Jack Groundhog Nov 2024
What happened to the little boy
that I once knew so well?
He’d greet each new day with unfettered joy
and wave the last one farewell.

When oaks and maples began to turn
and the leaves had started to fall
the boy happily switched the TV on and yearned
for the return of his game of football.

Somewhere along this growing boy’s way
he became a great deal like me:
I wake and walk to the mirror today
to see where that boy used to be.

Now I cling to every last leaf
that falls from the branches up high
while stretching the days that are now too brief
as the winter comes rapidly nigh.
Em MacKenzie Nov 2024
The Hallowe’en decor
has been put away for another year.
Christmas lights line each house and door,
illuminating every single tear.
The day of the dead has passed
but next holiday is one more for me,
since I’ve got the ghost of Christmas last
following me eternally.

Because you can’t weather proof against memories,
and you can’t keep grief from seeping through the windows.
The cold is the coldest of enemies
and it freezes you each time the wind blows.

The wind’s slapping at my face
and there’s a chill biting at my bones,
and in every snowflake; a feeling laced
“in our own arms we die”; all alone.
My mother was the spring,
just like it; she couldn’t stay very long.
The breath of fresh air she would bring
until her own breath wasn’t very strong.

Because you can’t weather proof against memories,
and you can’t keep grief from seeping through the windows.
The cold is the coldest of enemies
and it freezes you each time the wind blows.

No you can’t weather proof against memories,
and you can’t keep regret out of a locked door.
It has been that way for centuries
and it’ll be that way for centuries more.
Advent Calendar to Trauma
kokoro Nov 2024
As Novembers air approaches,
I can see my skin getting paler and paler,
I can see my arms covered in goosebumps.
As its air blows my hair back,
it also blows back memories from October
reminding me that they are never flowing away.
November will never be the same without my October.
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