Woke up with a headache,
It’s the dawn of a warm December,
The air smells of bonfire,
Rusty leaves and amber.
Days ago where the earth was watery;
Lies a love letter now- all torn and weary,
As if souls were made of ice,
Sat the saints with swear words and mice.
Orange polish and oversized cardigans,
Memories of nonpareil euphoria;
Which wasn’t even enduring,
Just void in the entire area.
Purple and scarlet tint the sun’s rays,
Yet, sunset chills people to the bone.
For when dusk dims on such dreary days,
They feel abandoned and all alone.