November Nights

I have high hopes for you on a November night. Every November night.

My high hopes get dashed by your inability to get a grip.

The hopelessness creeps back in the morning. My heart aches from the punishment it receives by your words.

I make a pact to my God that I’ll never forget. I beg Him to help me stop hoping. To stop helping. Please God show me how to let go.

November comes to an end. I close the door on my broken memory. I’ve replaced the reality of the month with what I keep hoping for.

Here’s to hoping December will be different.

Here’s to working on letting go and living in peace again.

Here’s to grief surely leading to healing.

Here’s to learning from my mistakes.

Cheers! (With my virtual kombucha:))