January screams fight.
This one is revival. This one is my winter sunrise. This is me gritting my teeth and stomping my feet. I will rip the ground, and rise. The curtains are drawn and the light is breaking through. Repeat after me, I am going to dance; dream; dive. Repeat after me, I am fierce; fast; free. Repeat after me, this is rebirth; revelation; revolution.
January sent love.
You turned my body into a burning building and I never even thought of leaving. I build a home out of the flames and slept amongst the smoke. So when a boy with forests for eyes, offers me his heart as fire blanket, I do not take it. You had matchsticks for fingers and I still crave the slow burn of my skin when you touched me. I do not want anyone to choke on the ashes of our love. I do not want anyone to burn with me.
January meant nostalgia.
Some names sound like words my tongue has forgotten how to pronounce and I am still learning how to deal with that. This month I play archeologist. I dig up old letters, old messages, old photographs. Excavation has me holding on to the past in the dust of fading memories. I am left crying in the middle of my own dirt storm. I went looking for gold, but all I found were bones.
January brings death.
Death is no longer some mysterious hooded figure when I meet him for the third time. He laughs and it sounds like he is swallowing the words left unsaid. He eclipses the light, and leaves no apologies. I am tired of watching him run into people in my school hallways. I wonder if he is tired of it too.
January was answers.
It was understanding that sometimes, you kiss your mother with the mouth that bites. Sometimes, i hold my sister with skin that wants to burn. Sometimes, sometimes, we build cathedrals out of hands that crave ruin. But I promise you, darling. You are not nearly as monstrous as you think you are.
[A/N- Part 1/12 of the 2016 series. ]