It's November rain we thought as we made our way down hollow highways and stared up at grey skies.
How do we move on from here?
Forgetting love after living in the thought of you and all the things you did that hurt me is oddly sickening.
It isn't shocking that something so unsettling would happen to me, maybe that's why I don't get the reactions I wish to receive, the concern and warmth I want to feel.
I should quit asking for help, to breathe fresh air or see clear stars, I'll never get out of here.
I can't expect everyone to understand the defeat and hurt this can reflect.
Because this is November rain, not September hurricanes and I can't complain about the bare cold because it's the seasons that forget to feel, not me.
