Gone are the days
of summer expeditions
for the welcoming months
of the year.
Now we encountered
our fallbacks in tombs and dry ashes
of buried memories
liberating itself from the coffin.
Candles lit the entire darkness
of the mournful reminiscence
but its heat insufficient
to warm the cold November.
There i finished my eulogy
of regrets calling your name on it
as if i could bring back
what was never mine— you.
Gone are the days
when i have all the chances to mean
what i always say between half meant jones;
i have fallen for you, too.
Writer's Note: November special! Expect for more literary pieces relating to this theme in the following days. Enjoy reading.
