Nov. 3rd

I've started over. Here I am, sitting at my desk with my hair up and his jacket around my shoulders. I've started over. I'm finally writing in this notebook again. But this time, I'm not crying and I like this pen. I'm realizing the reason I never say my subjects' names is because I'm not writing about a specific boy, I'm writing about how that person made me feel and what they did. I'm writing about Love. The concept of love, personified. So past poems or prose can be interchangeable with future instances, or vice versa. I haven't reflected in a long time, and it feels nice. Is it weird that I miss writing essays for school?

Oxytocin

Teacher turned the lights off
Rain droplets on the windows
Dark clouds turned the sun off
Calm and drowsy eyelids
Blink slowly on this November
Morning, stuck in this cold classroom
Rather be in bed, snuggled up with
Our minds turned off

They sky is crying and
My cheeks are rosy
The clouds are sighing
But we are cozy