it's november again and even in winter the sun reminds me of honey / there's a thick glaze over the world and it's heavy in a way where im not pleading with God for mercy / it's november again and you tell me breakfast will be ready soon / all you've left is the toast, the story of how we became a resin designed to stitch cracks shut and remind the people named stop that love is honest and we're not generous for feeling only pain.
you serve breakfast and we hold hands / behind us there's an infomercial promoting rings and our wedding / there are two decades or better left unspoken / the pain is buried in the back, underneath a garden where we grow food and enough flowers to give one another a bouquet every day.
it's november again and after breakfast we'll crawl back into bed / and light from the window will fall over your face / my heart will ache in the best way and i won't resist kissing you / and we'll say we love one another simultaneously / and begin to understand why it feels like spring in the winter.
(and one day i will wake up / i won't attend church or thank god for my blessings / but rather ill keep close to you and think i have found a religion best kept between you and i.)