54 : october

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October once
smelled of cinnamon and pine
tasted of syrup and candy corn
and looked like the forest
on a drizzly evening
with sunlight
kissing the edges of
the brown

but now it reminds me
of dry heaving
on a painfully white
toilet bowl
tears streaming down a face
unloved and unwanted

—what happened to my favorite month of the year?

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