Death in November

i was dragged to the sea shore

where i still dance with your ghost

hoping that maybe the ship's rudder will turn back

and out of the fog, you will mark your return

haunting this scene is-

"where waves are crashing onto shore,

there is weed covered in snow

and fog drip from leaves, like it's arrival of my death"

Lighthouse

your ocean current speaks to me every midnight

when i'm on the waters, searching without a party

they echoes you have long departed from my periphery

and my hands would feel shorter even if i were to get any closer

early november the cold marks its brutal return

in the shape of your name and spells the word 'F'

"what am i without you?" i ponder this question

while looking for you from lighthouse surrounded by storm

Porch

i sit by the porch

watching the ghosts f;y around

ivy hanging from the roof

and sun obscured by the fog

i sit by the porch

mourning all my losses-

'of dreams, people and memories',

that holds a knife on my throat

i sit by the porch

watching the ghosts fly around

i'm chained to a chair and

being forced to cry every november

Born in November

i ran to your place

when that story was over

throwing the skin and daggers away

and with departure of someone, that love rotted away

a nocturnal song echoed through the hall

when the ship arrived out of foggy water

i sat in regret, pain and carrying the weight of past

till you arrived like a savior, in november

Wild Currents

you came out of the fog in January

and left after wrecking havoc in november

your face like any unpredictable storm

sometimes gray, sometimes pink at height of your love

my face was gray, it still is

but your arrival was like a flicker on a stormy sea

providing me enough space to open up my wings

only for me to be drowned by your currents