they’ve got nothing in common except the straw
and maybe the way their insides look
but still they make a cute pair
as they sit side by side
in front of a fire
that hasn’t burned in a while
and his face is the color
of her dress
as if she colored him that way
he’s tattered and torn
she’ll offer to mend him
and sweep his floors
hoping he’ll remember
she is his home

November Something

You are in every breeze,
every sunrise,
every ripple of the water,
every falling leaf.
Every second whispers your name.
It’s simple and
it’s been written before.
But it feels like the truth.
With every breath, I miss you.
You’re my heart.


*Note: I wrote this poem back in November of 2015, but I neither dated it nor titled it, which is weird for me. So November Something seems like a fitting enough title, especially since the person who inspired the poem has a November birthday and I was most likely thinking about said birthday when I penned this.