✶December
-acb.
As the weather gets colder,
I am left to warm myself up
with the burning of thoughts and distant dreams
abandoned prospect.
The blazing potential burnt to ash against my skin,
and as I do so, I can't help but wonder:
What if I had just—for a second—believed in myself?
In my thoughts and capacity, to actually make it?
But those wonder get muted by
all the insecurities and self doubts
wrapped around my neck,
with a gentleness that competes with a victory's embrace.
December's winter is upon me,
I could only hope for the warm
gentle embrace of hope.
YOU ARE READING
my poems. nd shits?
Poetryi do not edit them, we die like men here. might update them to make them more fancy but that's unlikely.
