Dear April,
You were so good to me. You were all blush and adrenaline rush.

Dear April, 
You hurt me bad. Such a dirty fighter; always kicking me when I was already on my knees.

Dear April,
On the first day, you were sitting on the kitchen counter sipping tea like you knew stories I didn’t. Now that we’re done, the mystery’s gone and I don’t know how I feel about you anymore.

Dear April,
You showed me that rebellion could be soft. That music could be violent. You taught me how to write like I had never had my heart broken. You gave back what December had taken. Thank you for that.

Dear April,
I heard that NASA found a galaxy so small that if you were to stand on the surface of a planet in that galaxy, the night sky would be lit up with a million stars, each of them visible to the naked eye. This month all I do is wish I could there. Which is to say, I think the world looks better when it is ablaze.

Dear April, 
I see you as a little girl running through the rose gardens and losing yourself in the petals, but still remembering the prick of the thorns.

Dear April,
What do I do with all his secrets? All the things he said to me when he was clenching his teeth? The words that fell out of his mouth and searched for asylum in my ribs? The things he said when his chest was heaving and his heart was crumbling? Tell me, April, what do I do?

Dear April, 
It’s exactly one year today. The anniversary of our ruin. The anniversary of the violets and the violence. Maybe someday I’ll say I’m happy for him and actually mean it. Maybe one day he’ll say he forgives me for all the dents I left on his heart. Maybe our someday is already here.

Dear April,
My summer’s like simpler times. Summer like rolling down the fields with flowers in my hair. Summer like mango juice dripping down my chin. Summer like ain’t got no shoes, ain’t got no worries, ain’t got no blues.

Dear April, 
All this forgiving is exhausting. I wish people would just be more gentle. 

Dear April, 
I want to say this is a love poem. I want to say I’ll never forget you. I want to say your name will be tattooed onto the back of my mind. But if we’re being honest, it probably won’t. You were my joyride, but it’s time I get off. 

[Part 4/12 of the 2016 Series]


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s