NOVEMBER


 Dear November,

You were my good days, but you also gave me your worst. When leaves started falling and bursting all autumn colors, people around me did too. And even when I tried to bag them all with care, I ended up leaving with my bag always empty and finding my way home alone in your crisp November fall air. He came in like summer, like hope, like water in the desert — full of promises of love and everything else that is good. He said he liked me for my summery glow, my sun-kissed skin and traces of honey — but come autumn and he didn't know what to do when I became a semblance of his Novemberish nightmare that he never did liked too. Just then, all at once, summer collapsed to a dreary fall. And by the next spring he found his new summer too.

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