She looks at me
Like a wandering maverick
Exploring my soul
Through the stems of my retina.

Travelling to my body
Through the feel of my pulse,
As she grasped my hand
Lingering on bold emotions

Baffled with blurred questions;
Peceptions nor judgement
Was never clear and printed
Vague intentions.

Softly spoken words
On a gloomy bipolar weather
With a cup of brewed happiness,
Yes, we are strangers.

you were my january, new and fresh, waiting and eager

you were my february, lovely and red, short and sweet

you were my march, long and gruesome, grey and heavy

you were my april, clean and damp, lively and green

you were my may, blooming and new, wispy and pale

you were my june, loved and fiery, hazy and breezy

you were my july, red and blue, revered and bright

you were my august, muggy and sweaty, sticky and hot

you were my september, dreaded and anticipated, stressful and hectic

you were my november, chilly and windy, biting and thankful

you were my december, merry and cheery, pining and frigid

but most of all,

you were a year wasted.