I Hate December

I heard footsteps in the kitchen. But nobody's in this house. Maybe it's the

version of me that's gone missing. Maybe it's the version I keep tryna cut out.

There's so much more I cut out. I brought this on myself.

I made a map, traced your stars, can't remember. The psychic that

said I'd meet you again in December. Well, it's December,

saw you called only number I remember. I shoulda tipped her better.

I saw a picture of you in my old sweater. Good to know

you're warm in this weather. I always did like the snow better.