June will kiss you and spell the extent of your beauty.

July will ******* senseless and leave you with a wailing heart.

August will pick up your broken pieces only to get cut.

September will brutally bruise you and jeer at your absurd fragility.

January will snap you in half and watch as you scream and cry on the floor.

February will be an ocean of self destruction, washing over you and gently cradling you in it’s arms.

March is broken records all over your apartment floor and getting wasted at ten in the morning.

April is blood in the sink, crying yourself to sleep, shaky hands and breaking down everywhere you go.

May is a storm forming in your eyes when you realize that you need to save yourself, because you stopped loving yourself for to long, and they stopped loving you too.

When they tell you that wounds will heal, you know that its all a lie.