I am your winter.

I am your September.

I bring you the end of light
with the beginning of a dark night;
your last sight
of the beauties that lie in front of your eyes.

I am your October.

I am the chill you start to feel
now that your sun has gone down.
I know I have been the bridge between your two worlds -
your heaven and your hell reside in me
and I shall no longer be your path to any.

I am your November.

I am the cold you are touching now -
the angel you see beside you
but the demon you clutch behind you.
You're not schizophrenic,
you're not hallucinating,
you're in a distant dream which you've since wished for your reality.
I have faith you'll wake up one day.

I am,
lastly,
your December.

I am the darkness you embrace;
the paranoia in which you suffocate.
You're a disgrace,
you're a shame,
you're the retribution for my pain.

12:35a.m.
21 November 2017