The air is thick with condensation and regret that we chose to make our homes here when we knew they'd fall apart eventually. August's unforgiving sun beats down on us, one last bout of humiliation before we admit this wasn't the place for us and we need to leave. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck, and my legs, and the crooks of my elbows. We knew it wasn't going to be pretty.
I hope you enjoyed this short poem! I am not a fan of the humidity, and the heat wave in California as I’m writing this (a week ago by the time it’s posted) is hitting me hard. What a way to end the summer, right? Please feel free to leave feedback and writing challenges in the comments. Stay safe and healthy out there.