January was the first of many months.
February is the second time I realized that when
March rolled around that you wouldn't be there in
April to hold me.
May wasn't any better because,
June came too quickly.
July came in with fireworks but all I got was burns from the sparks.
August days were spent picking up grains of sand hoping in
September would be different.
October I carved a smile on me instead of the pumpkins but
November the scar started to show.
December. I made it thought another year alone.