January-
I’m trying to forget the sound of your voice. Just a few days ago your cries for attention were echoing in my ears. I don’t know how to turn down the volume.

February-
Grape vines twist through my ribcage. My blood turns to wine.

March-
The sun pokes its head out the curtain. The stars tell it not too. That is unprofessional. No one can know what goes on behind the scenes.

April-
I wear birthday cake frosting as lipstick. I resemble a clown. I balance on boxes filled with my favorite books. Another year older.

May-
I’m a time bomb. I’m ticking down. I’m sorry you had to find out this way. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6. The confessions burble out of my throat. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Silence.

June-
Like the flowers, I am reborn. My petals spread out and greet the warmth. My pretty colors distract me from my inevitable death.

July-
I can’t breathe under this heat. The air has stilled, the Earth has stopped moving. How am I still not over this?

August-
I hide from the sun. From the sky and the stars. I am ashamed of what I am.

September-
Everyone is looking at me. I don’t fit inside my skin. They all know. It is written across my forehead. It is tattooed in braille on the soles of my feet.

October-
The leaves fall from trees. I follow suit. We change and die together. I knew there was a reason I liked this weather.

November-
I have long stopped being a person. I am your lost inhaler. I am snow in the summer. An afterthought of a girl. I am sorry.

December-
Its the anniversary of the assault. I’ve only ever spoken about in poetry. Compared it to bees. Compared it to cats’ claws stuck in moth eaten sweaters. To irritated scars now opened despite months of bandages and stitches. I’ve left it folded in between pages of diary entries. I hope one day you find them. And you realize what you’ve done.

Dear Beautiful,
There are galaxies on your fingertips. They churn out words that explode like stars. I orbit around you

Dear Poet,
You write with honesty. I respect that. You spill your guts out onto paper for all to see. You wear your secrets like shawls. I try not to cry when I think of you on his bedroom floor

Dear Librarian,
All you do is read and write. Read and write. Read and write. Read and write. Are you reading these letters? Are you writing a reply?

Dear Laughter,
I like watching your stomach muscles squeeze when you laugh. However your smile is one of the few things I hate. Your teeth are stained with tea and coffee. You don’t smile enough. I could learn to live with that

Dear Cigarettes,
There’s a burning in my throat. I imagine myself with a hole in my windpipe, talking through a machine. I don’t know why I’m telling you this

Dear *****,
I hate you so much. You make me pull out my fingernails. You make me hold my head under soapy waves. You are a volcano leaking lava and it’s killing me. Melting my flesh and burning my bones. I am ash. You are the fires of Pompeii. You need to be extinguished

Dear Sorrow,
I’m sorry about that last letter

Dear Warrior,
You punched me in the face today. You split your knuckle on my teeth. I tasted your blood. The metallic bitterness sweet on my tongue. My jaw is bruising. It’s swollen. Is this an abusive relationship?

Dear Thunderstorm,
You’re a sonic boom. Please don’t do this to yourself.

Dear Beautiful,
You still have galaxies on your fingertips. But your heart has been replaced by a black hole. I need to leave before I’m ****** in. Swallowed whole. I’m sorry for wasting your time