January.
Being eaten alive,
my mother's suicide,
all of the cake and disappearances
after.
February.
My birthday.
The sound of a crash
coming from the kitchen.
March.
Counting years (ten, nineteen).
When he left, they told me
I should celebrate.
April.
The names I gave myself
and the places I forgot them
in.
May.
There is too much quiet
here.
June.
The sun found my skin
again. Discipline. I do not know
where I am.
July.
I burned your life
to the ground.
I'm sorry.
August.
I am almost far enough
away.
September.
Cancer, a body covered
in blossoms.
Help me be better.
October.
Nobody ever stays dead.
November.
Filling holes in the front yard.
I don't mean to love you still.
Turn red, turn
white.
December.
Honesty
that we are done
outrunning. Finally,
finally.
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