2013
Aubrianna McCarter
You left no footprints
in the snow
when you disappeared.
Snipped my lifeline
and left me to drown, flailing
alone in an icy sea.
February
Hot and sticky
realization drips out of my ears,
and runs into my mouth.
My misery tastes saccharine
and is the only flavor
I can recall.
March
The twisted claws of
the season’s chill have left
fingerprints on my throat.
A world frozen to a halt,
Mother Nature wants revival
and so do I.
April
The earth is warming
unlike my heart, which thuds and flutters
like a faulty monitor.
My breathing is a child
just learning how to play
the violin.
May
The sun causes a slow burn
that seeps behind my eyelids.
Smother me with sunflowers
and soil;
maybe they will heal
the inside of my mind.
June
Covered with dust and pollen,
you’ve sauntered back in
and brought the summer with you.
Yet I am the one out of breath,
with sweaty palms, windswept –
whiplashed.
July
A field full
of flowers and sickly sweet
sunshine, accessorized with
flushed cheeks and guilt,
inhabited by
one-sided love.
August
Your untrustworthy presence
has pulled me
to my feet. I’ve sewn
my head back together
with iridescent thread
and shaky fingers.
September
Your love,
it has died like the flowers
in my hair.
You tried your best,
but you forgot to water
my plants.
October
My love,
on the other hand,
has grown. It has consumed me
like ivy, c-r-a-w-l-i-n-g up my neck
into my sockets and
out of my mouth.
November
The leaves have fallen
as has my hope
unlike my love.
Days are growing colder,
nights are growing darker
and so am I.
December
‘Tis the season
for uncertainty and loneliness.
If you ask Father Christmas
for someone to love you,
I will still be here, ready
to do it all again.