365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Sixty-Two

tis the season.
to think about things past.
miss the things you had.
and cry.

the cold shocks.
tears stop.
if only for a little while.
they always return.

too much.
always too much.
I break.
I am not strong.
I am not worthy.
but at least I’m alive.

for now.

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About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

this side, that side

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