January or November; you can’t quite recall.
Breath that billowed into a monument of all you should have said by now.
The words just wouldn’t come.
Give into the vacant sound.
Floating faces, statues saying, “Can you put us back into the ground? Because we can’t stand the way you wear your head.”
The way the camera let the light pass left you underwhelmed.
But after the last flash, there is no second chance.
And we know there is no second chance.