November limbo.

Always 
happens to 
come around this 
time of year.


Tries to call me.
I don't hear a thing. 
The second time I hear
but look close and ignore.


In thinking
it has gone I
slip away into a 
world of composure.
My world. Not our world.
I get remorseful in sharing
the things I hold dear.


What things?
It asks
as it
comes to 
the door. The 
things! I confront
as I throw away shy 
and just want
it to go.


I hate 
that 
it
always
happens to 
come around this
time of year.
Bringing cases 
of times
of loss
and of cheer.
We can catch up
Have a drink 
but I don't want it here.


Its friends that were our friends.
Its memories that were ours.


In November.


A house guest 
I don't want
around.