Little Miss November

Breaking up with
my original mentor, little
miss November.

She sold my youth
to creditors to cover
the interest payments on hers.

Naive as
the day we met,
in a hospital no less;

fancies herself the
happiest girl on Earth
but has
a world of
humility to learn.

Little miss turncoat, responsible for my sinking rowboat, I’ve kept us afloat this long but maybe that’s the wrong assumption, imagining my gumption would

save us both.

Little miss tone-deaf, out of tune with the rest of us, searching for love in empty gestures. Telling me, no pressure, only to dig her thumbs into old wounds,

leaving no room
for scar tissue

Little miss November, my
ultimate dissenter, will pull
every lever, push any
button just to
see what each one does.

Little miss November,
unfortunate soul mate,

love’s notorious

thirty days
of anarchy,
hitting notes on
the crazy scale guitars
could never


8 thoughts on “Little Miss November

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