December 1st


December is the smell of
Burned matches
(In more ways than one)
And the flavor of
Cinnamon washed holy
With water from lonely candles on dusty mantels.

Do you ever feel like
You were made to give love
But no one was created
To return it?
The holidays are a great time
To remember how alone you really are.
You can’t make resolutions
When half of them involve other people.
Because what you want to fix
Isn’t you,
But them.

December 1st

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