Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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Crisp, grey November. Flatter senses with the death of seasons, seducing with the tightened chill of truncated days. We bundle warm intentions, shoulders bunched and necks made stiff behind scarves of red, orange, brown and black. Candy love promises and chocolate prayers blessed under pumpkin candlelight, absent in the fattening of our need for comfort. This thirty can kill you, each one a frozen knife twist deeper through each layer, you’ll bleed beauty into the monochrome swallow. Each sunset carrying icicle hurt, stinging against the valance of indifferent facades, stabbing until it melts through a heart unchanged by time’s lack of forgiveness. A thousand more leaves fallen, each a regret choking gutters of hope, covering over every promise with the sloppy decay of inevitability. So she’ll march through. So she’ll murder every single moment in the deceptive still. #november #fall #autumn #newmarketnh #leaves #foliage #gray #sky #pond #poem #poetry #writer #writing #literary_imagery1 #literary_original (at Fallen)

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