Confirmation in November — Sophia Egolf
poetry ☆
poetry ☆
Fall eventually enters with God-ordained crimson woods.
It’s no coincidence that November brings the purest torment.
Leaves kiss our naked skin –
it sticks like your leather boots.
Cutting corners and creases with the knowledge I
had of November.
The desire swept inside terror is hushed longing.
Ash in your mouth,
the dark is not afraid of me in November.
I am bare.
The spit of sorrow has turned my mouth into cinnamon smirks;
I belong in this.
23 years old based out of Atlanta GA. Recent psychology grad who loves to combine science with heart in girlhood to womanhood.
