First comes winter. The hardest to survive.
Cold and barren; the frost eats you alive.
Branches of hope bare; leaves of love decayed,
Around your heart and soul, you’ve built a barricade.

Next is the spring; winter gone at last.
The time for new life, no longer bound to your past.
Resilience gave you another chance;
You refuse to look back now, not even a glance.

Now the summer, best season of all.
You think you've moved on, standing proud and tall.
Growing and blossoming towards the sky,
Barely remembering the last goodbye.

Darker nights now autumn is here,
Doubts create fog this time of year.
Leaves of joy and fulfilment are furling and falling,
Memories of lost love you just keep recalling.

Then winter strikes again, but not quite as strong,
You wonder why you still haven’t moved on.
Reliving every mistake and regret,
The frost bites your skin. It won’t let you forget.

The seasons repeat until you become winterless,
Your bark has healed, you are finally splinterless,
Life now a lattice of long summer, carefree spring,
But occasionally the autumn may sometimes creep in.
Or so that is what I hear,
But I still have winter as part of my year.

I wish my
lips could
be sewn
shut with
a blood red
needle &
thread,
a visible
display
of how I
feel on my
worst of days
when I
want to
lock myself
away,
when words
are strangers
exchanging
kisses across
lips & hearts
are graveyards
burying
broken
promises.

i've always been mesmerized by the concept that sometimes a home isn't always in the form of closed doors and four sides of walls.
sometimes a home isn't always in the form of empty rooms and echoing goodbyes.

sometimes a home is a person.
and for me, that person is you.

there's no place like home,
there's no place like you.

to write and send a million letters to you,
then being returned back to me unread,
is like wishing on the stars in the sky,
which, in reality, are people who are dead.

wishing on falling leaves or feathers,
why must i use those things
if they themselves have fallen
from branches of life and free wings?

why would i believe in the luck of a penny,
when money can't buy your love?
the colorful palette will revert back to gray,
no matter how many rainbows are above.

there's one more thing i can wish upon;
they told me the moon's a way that's sure.
but how will my wish come true,
if it's you i'm wishing for?