Your words cut me like the harsh frost of winter. It's been a while since you've been gone but it's been winter year round, and I've been hoping for spring to melt away the bitterness in my head. There is ice on all of the paths and I keep slipping into a darkness that comes much earlier than it used to. I pray for spring to come, but all I've known is winter and what if it is harsher than these past few months? What if the warmth it promises is covered in morning dew and its smell is wrapped in our sheets?
Or what if the chains formed by the ice of quietly whispered lies keep me trapped against the post of un-forgetfulness? I'm beginning to believe the warmth that the sun brings has been trapped behind that same post you've locked me to, except the post is your bed, and it is the words that you let seep from your lips into my ears.
I have been longing for words delicate enough to live inside my heart but also longing for words of bravery strong enough to dance with my demons until I see the seasons change within me. I've been longing for spring. Desires glimmer in my eyes, grasping for the hope of change. I've been clinging to hope more fragile than lilac's petals when they first begin to bloom.
Spring was warm this year, but the nights were still cold and it froze me to the core. I hid under piles of blankets to keep my demons warm, but the fabric smelt like us and it only fueled the bitterness in my eyes. I could not even admire the flowers, never mind touch them. I imagined myself destroying them in my palm, much like you had done to me with every ungentle touch and every forced word through gritted teeth.
The summer promised warmth, but you promised love and I have yet to feel either. I was still frozen, I was still stuck in winter even if the sun kissed my skin. The ocean looked like your eyes and I will never forget your stare as long as the ocean remains a deep blue. The tide reminded me of every embrace you'd push away from, but I'd always come back for more because you remained there like the sand that matched the color of your hair. You were essentially always my ocean, but your ocean drowned me and I'm still recovering from every gasping breath and every un-spoken cry for an escape.
The salty ocean kissed my skin before the tide pulled it away again. Ill never forget the way the sun reflecting on my drenched skin reminds me of your shoulder the time I cried on it and left tear stains on your shirt as proof that you were once mine. This seems to be my only proof that the words "I love you" once escaped from your lips because I never hear them anymore and the small flower buds I saw when the seasons changed have begun to wilt the same way your feelings for me did, when I could no longer handle being used.
Fall came closer and I could hear it in your words and see it in your eyes when your gaze became more lifeless than your touch. I watched us both fall through the branches of empty promises we formed along side our webs of fading emotions which never seemed to soften our landing as we planned. The sky darkened the same time our chances at being okay again did, and I think I could see love's flame burning out inside of my own body, except I'm not so sure that the flame I was feeling was every actually ever love or just a rush of feelings and helpless falling into the pits of our disillusions.
The leaves were full of color and full of life, but there was little life in your words, and they fell into piles of lies. I wanted to jump in them, but I could hear the crunch of time when I was forced to choose if I would let you continue to touch me with an untruthful hand, or if I would leave as fast as the summer had.
I'm not so sure which month I would prefer to die in. To be honest, I died in all of them. Winter came back and the familiar fear of icy roads and bitter words were all I had left. I don't think I would last more than three months in winter, but spring left little hope. I was as fragile as every petal, on every flower, on every bush. I was broken by your words but to die in spring was to die by your hand and that is a fate I could never obtain in a peaceful manner.
The heat from summer approached and I swear I could feel your touch in every beam of sunlight that hit my skin. The warm rays hit my neck like the kisses you planted there and trailed down my spine like seeds that were meant to grow flowers inside of me. Or at least that's what I thought. Every cold fall day raised goose bumps of fear on my skin with the uncertain thoughts multiplying in my head. The seasons still change every year much like you did every time I thought I understood you. I hoped one day the seasons would find a balance and allow my heart to beat at ease again; but that has yet to happen and I still live every day in fear that you'll bring another winter storm to me again.