november
you weigh heavy on me this time of year. you always do.
i can feel nails digging into the back of the neck, into the arm, into the thighs.
i can feel us overlapping, stacking over each other like coloured cellophane until we become opaque. i feel all your aches, past, present, and future, all at once.
a dizzying kaleidoscope of blood spilled and not yet spilled, blood that will be spilled by myself, by you - its the same thing. I cannot confront myself so i split myself
into the
me
and into the
you.
the day i have to face you, i want to let the fog creep into my lungs and consume me entirely. It would have been so easy to keep walking, keep walking, leave us somewhere we don't recognize. This month seems to drag on forever, with its grey skies and not cold enough nights. please be over soon. please be over gently.