November

November smells like blood.

The cold numbs the senses, but the stench is there, underlying the smell of snow and leaves. Blood colors everything even as the world grows sterile in the chill.

November smells like blood.

It leaks out of every pore and orifice, and then it hangs in the air until December, when it gets buried beneath a layer of frost. Until then, it's everywhere, from the tip of your tongue to the tip of your fingers.

It sits heavy in the pit of your stomach, churning into sickness and bile.

November smells like blood- November, the ninth month displaced to the penultimate syllable in a long, long year. All Saint's month, heralded by Halloween- blood sacrifices stick around longer than we'd like.

I fucking hate November. I can't stand the smell of blood.