Excerpts I'll Never Tell

Winter's Northern Star is Summer & Spring

Hesitation grieves those who dream, and I am plagued. I'm tachycardic, and my heart skips again, and again.

We sit beneath summer's sleep and have death recall the light. If you struggle to understand, know that we are stronger than death; even in death, we come to light.

Shadows draw along my face as the light reaches me suddenly in a dark room, and I'm confused. My heart pulls. How poetic. My breath catches as it always does. I try to remember the kisses of Summer and Spring, but all I can remember is how he-it made me feel in the moment. Are you listening?

My fingers trail along the sky and grasp the cosmos that don't reach back, and I find myself always back in the chilling sting of Winter; I always thought I was Autumn, however. It's a challenging read, isn't it?

While the cosmos don't reach back, the stars dance along my face in kisses and splatters of paint.

The snow falls then melts in my hair and freezes my skin. My lips become chapped and crack under the pressure. As harsh as it is, it reminds me of home, not as home as Summer and Spring but as being born of Winter. Born of Winter and Fall, and home of Summer and Spring. My poeticness is not as soothing and comes out harsh; I'm trying to soften it again. I delete, retype, and overthink.

Winter's grievance. Autumn's fall. At least there is peace in it, right? Being reduced to the bones of what you are, even if it's harsh for some time.

But, oh, how I miss my home of Summer and Spring and the cosmos that follow. Who knew that your heart could ache and mend so many times? At the same time?