November Fog

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“An emptiness,

this is what I remember”,

said the girl,

too young to have known

what life can give you

but also what it can take away..



“It’s hard,

I miss him”,

said that same girl,

that same day of November,

a year later.

“I don’t want to cry,

I don’t need to”,

continued that girl,

another year later,

that same day of November.

“I don’t dare to feel,

it’s too painful”,

confessed the girl,

embarrassed, for being pushed

to start a process that she was uncapable of doing.

Five years later,

when there were no other options,

the pain had to get out,

from every corner

of the almost beaten body

of that ice statue

in what the girl had become.

Another November

and the girl collapsed,

she started to feel

all what she had blocked

for fear it was too painful.

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