Everything blossomed, just like our feelings.
Hello April, it's good to have you, and your back.
The sun burns brighter, as if I were a moth;
everything turns green, while I fade to black.

I wear gold, and you wore silver;
all my memories seem to linger.

My hair is blonde, and yours was black;
at times, I thought that we had luck.

You loved the night; I preferred the morning.
Now all that remains is me here, mourning.

You were my silence, even though you sang;
for months, I would wait for you—and hang.

And once, I wrote what I left unspoken,
a ray of sunlight through what seemed broken.

Poems found me when the whole world was gone,
and you gave me your last kiss at dawn.

March arrives, marking the beginning of spring,
though chapters are closing and seasons are ending.
These heavy rains will soon come to an end too,
and the trees are blooming, yet we’re still pending.

Though days were few and rather short,
we had enough time to decide to part.
The rupture lasted less than fourteen days—
grey and chilly February, you froze my heart.

Daylight is starting to stretch a little longer,
and all matters have begun to mend.
I hoped, January, that we could start anew,
but every beginning, after all, meets its end.

In the cold of these nights, it is hard to find comfort.
Awful December, a reminder that everything passes.
The only memory of heat remains the steam on the glass
and this box from you, where I still hide my glasses.