sunday, december.

the wind blows up my hair
it's making the breeze goes
up to my neck.
if i shall ever close my eyes
the snowflakes will try
too hard to keep it closed
forever

darling, january will start soon
are you hiding? do you care at all?
are you creeping behind the wooden
door and watch as the world burns
down?
because i do. i care about
the year that passes.
the seconds, the minutes,
the hours we spent together
just 24 hours ago
what happened?

i cried
you lied
we fought
i did this, right?
the cats are chasing for fresh meat.

i screamed like a possessed child
like a drunk man without a wife
like the sun without its light
but that was a year ago


monday, january

i used to see you every morning
on this day, you would walk around
the hallways and made fun of
our science teacher.

you would see me and
rolled your eyes
or maybe
just stared for billions of minutes
until you had to look away
because, well, my eyes
had taken over your heart
more than
her words did.

but that was last year.

i cringe every time i hear your
dark and beautiful and flawless
name

and i hide every time i smell your
cigarettes and wine perfume
or ketchup and cigarettes and beer
perfume.

this year

you wont call me yours
i wont call you mine
we wont be staring again
we wont be visible again
we wont dare to hate
we wont be in love
we wont care for each other
we will be nothing.

this year, starting.
i see your face in the crowd and ask,
"do i know him? does he still know me?"
you glance.