Late November and I walk in with you.
What could a good moment possibly do?
A glove is placed by your front door.
It’s strange to think it’s not there anymore.
Bitter hearts are a taste that’s known to me.
I hold your hand and taste your unsweetened tea.
6 months in of an unflavored love.
What do you think this could be a sign of?
Four green eyes can mix up a storm.
The freezing cold of a college dorm.
Tartness is the way you have broken me.
I wake in the morning and drink this unsweetened tea.