December was unsettling. It was sadness; a quiet drowning.
A feeling like absence, like longing for something unreachable. Something like oceans – blue like his eyes.
The tears and moonlight burnt my eyes as I fluttered my eyelids. I couldn’t even remember what the lilacs looked like.
There were flickers of light, half-breaths, half-dreams, a half-hope that in the end we’d be okay. But everything was cold. The moon became fluid, and I, an ashtray of secrets and promises long broken. It was too cold. Too numbing.
The sky cracked down. And it rained and it rained and it rained.
My heartbeat was all messed up. He never really looked at me and I just realised…
But I didn’t bleed. I was too empty for that.
“You break it you buy it”, but it was too late for that too. I wasn’t getting enough oxygen, and no, this pain wasn’t poetic. It was ugly. Like chocking and grasping for air.
I only regretted believing. – Hope is a damn evil thing.
December was cold; it was falling asleep on the edge of cliffs and colliding with utter darkness.
It was sad, but now it’s ended.
The whole year’s ended.
So now let me sleep.
And I’ll rise tomorrow.
A new year.