Poem: October is;


Curling and unfurling
On alternate weekends.

Cutting my own hair, and
Holding my tongue, tight.

Exchanging our affections,
Amongst endless racing.
Signing in, and signing you out.
We collected apples, and I
Remembered not to count.

I want a month of fire.
Passion, desire.

Take me here,
this wall
My backbone.

I’ll make myself heard.

My lyrical voice abrupt
with logical defeat.

“It’ll end in tears,” we joke.
Yes. “Yours.”


Gah, formatting. This is much prettier on the page that I have 😦

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