A Year

By
November.
The month of thanks.
But nothing to be thankful for.
Only frustrating feelings of misery.
As shades of yellow, orange and red fall to the ground,
The tears from my eyes fall to the ground.

December
The month of joy.
But no one to be joyous with.
Only lonely days, waiting under the mistletoe.
White snow covers the earth,
Working with the frigid air to chill my empty heart.

January.
The month of new beginnings.
Trying to begin again, without you here.
Only to get stuck in the same heartbreak.
Missing you in the cold winter nights,
With frost bite on my heart,
Will this pain ever go?

February.
The month of love.
But no feelings of love,
no belief in love, no one to love,
Searching for replacements
To help find the missing piece for my heart.

March.
The month of change.
I am the only one who changes.
Away goes my dependency on you.
Arriving is the ability to fend and fight for myself.
Disguising the feelings of loneliness.

April.
The month of blossom.
New strength blooming,
Like the bright flowers of yellow, purple and white,
On the damp and muddy ground,
The ground is as messy as my feelings.

May.
The month of warmth.
As the ice on my heart melts away.
The waves crash onto the beach,
Taking away my fear and pain.
Leaving behind a new start.

June.
The month of summer.
A school year of ups and downs,
Comes to an end, not a second to soon.
New beginnings and new days,
A new season of memories.

July.
A month of freedom.
My heart is finally free,
From you and your chains.
But you come walking back into my life
My walls fight hard to keep you out.

August.
A month of summer heat.
I know I am okay to be on my own.
But a new someone is keeping me cool.
You have no one to watch the summer stars with.
Now, it’s your turn to feel this pain.

September.
A month of school.
New year, new look, new friends,
New feelings, new growth, but most of all,
New love, new life and new laughs.
Beginning a new adventure without you.

October.
A month of fright.
But, I’m not scared of anything,
Except the ghosts in my house, the witches in school,
Most of all, the skeletons in my closet.
But I’m not scared of being on my own.





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