November, November,
the sixth of November,
colder than any winter,
as you left me for her.
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YOU ARE READING
Dark and Beautiful
PoetrySometimes my thoughts and hand bleed so much poetry I can barely stop them from leaking onto the paper. But sometimes, too, my heart bleeds too much blood that I couldn't write poetry anymore.
sixth of november
November, November,
the sixth of November,
colder than any winter,
as you left me for her.
»»»
