Poems

{Seasons} Spring to Winter

You are like spring. Spring always reminded me of new life and birth, and you created that for me. You brought life into my dead brown eyes. You sparked the idea of a better life. You reminded me that I could be a better person if I'd try. And on a March night, the moon was no where to be seen but the stars managed to light up and reflect off your hazel eyes. In the dimming light you told me: "For a star to be reborn it must first collapse. You've already been through the worst of it, you have already fallen apart. This is your beginning."

You are like Summer. The fresh dew had fallen on the lively and deep green grass, but my God, your eyes were greener. You reminded me to leave my room and soak in the sunlight before it was too late. I was reminded to take the moment now because Summer was either the fastest or the slowest season. Summer was unpredictable and free. No one could control Summer, like no one could control you. You were the rare and fast Summer. You were here one second and in the next you were gone. You started getting reckless in the June heat but my love for you stayed. In mid July, on the rooftop of your home, you handed me a cigarette and told me to smoke it. I refused the offer causing you to shake your head and repeat 'you'll regret this'. You promised me that white puffs and halos of burnt nicotine would scream your name.

You are like Autumn. Oh, how drastic the change from Summer to Autumn was. After that July day you stopped talking to me. My texts and calls went unanswered. You were as cold as the Fall weather. I looked for you everywhere I went but stayed hidden like the sun did after a sunset. The day that followed, when the leftover sunlight painted the sky an image of vibrant orange, popping red, and fluorescent pink, would've been beautiful if the absence of my sun didn't leave such a bad aftertaste in my mouth. The only way I'd ever been taught to cure a bad taste was to put a different one into my mouth, so down to the gas station I drove. I selected the closet branded box to the one you grasped in your left hand on that day before we never spoke again. I climbed to the top of my roof with a lighter and the box of cigarettes. The first cigarettes never made it to my lips but rather the aroma made it to my nose. The smell only reminded me of you, but I needed more. I needed to taste you. The second cigarettes went straight to my lips. You were right, cigarettes were the only things that made me feel like you were ever real. So a third and fourth followed the second white roll of death. On that last afternoon of Autumn, after the sky has been rid of any sunset portraits, I smoked a whole pack of cigarettes. But this didn't make me feel better. My lungs were now as dead and colorless as my mother's hibernating maple trees. I sat alone on that rooftop, replaying the words you once spoke to me because you weren't there to tell me new ones.

You are like Winter. Almost a year after we met, I've decided on what season you are like most. You are the Winter frost that killed the sapling that Spring so sweetly promised would 'make it till next year'. You killed me before I had begun to live. You are the reason I'm frozen in time, stuck in the past. You never left with a proper goodbye causing me to search for you ever where I go. And I can't let go. I see you in babies (a signal of new life), I see you in the sunset (a reminder that nothing lasts), I see you in the cigarettes that I no longer smoke (a memory of you). The problem is that even though I know Winter is my weakness, Winter has always been my favorite season. Something about Winter says no promise. No promise of rain for that beautiful summer grass. No promise of grass to sustain new life. No new life to vanish in the cold. Winter is heartless and cruel, but Winter is beautiful. Just like you. And on this December day, I'm at peace because at last, your words have left my ears and mind. All I hear is silence and maybe now I can make my own 'new beginning'.