it’s november, after all,

the air feels heavier while the sky

churns itself into the deepest shade of blue it owns.

you hold the carton of milk like a memory,

expired before you even had the chance to pour it.

the bread crumbles in your palms, like a love that went stale

with things left unsaid for too long.

you walk past the frozen food aisle,

the cold slipping into your sleeves,

like the chill that creeps in when your phone lights up

with their name on the screen & you don’t answer

it’s november, after all,

and love always finds a way to freeze.

it’s november, after all.

you’re walking in the grocery store

looking for one thing, leaving with something else

half of what you wanted, none of what you needed.

the cereal boxes you buy will sit in the corner

while you skip breakfast like it’s summer

it’s november, after all.

and the shelves are stocked

while the emptiness follows you home anyway.