"I still remember what you tasted like
The cinnamon on your tongue
Is still bitter on mine.
March brought madness
And we had our first fight.
I wish I could make it poetic but I cannot.
In April my eyes brought showers
And I assumed by May I would have a garden of flowers
By how many tears fell like tsunamis onto the pages of my poetry.
You told me you were sure I was the one in June.
And you poured yourself into me as smooth as honey.
Almost as smooth as all of our little lies.
July brought fourth fireworks in our eyes.
We were so blissful in our new found lack of innocence.
I, nor you, could get enough.
We were scorching.
Plans of our fast approaching future sprung into nearly every conversation we had.
We were so sure our love was hot like the August heat.
September you told me how beautiful I was and how smart.
You just didn’t understand how I saw myself.
And I couldn’t understand how you could see anything other than how I saw myself.
October we showed each other what was behind the mask.
You saw my selfishness
And I saw your unbelievable arrogance.
Halloween came and our masks were back up.
November came fast and so did your birthday but all you got that month was your declination letter.
My consolation would never be enough.
The Christmas lights in December were not nearly as bright as my feelings for you
But yours were only dulling.
I lied to myself and said that yours were brighter
More vibrantly colored.
But yours were black.
Almost burnt out.
January brought chilly weather.
Almost as chilly as your hard feelings for me.
February came again and the cinnamon was still bitter on my tongue
And I could smell it on your breath as you spoke the words I thought I would never hear from you.
My tears were almost as salty as yours
And as you threw up we realized this heartache meant something
And we’d give it another whirl.
By march you said,
“Finally, it’s enough.”
I begged you to stay.
March brought sorrow so deep I could have drowned in pills and vodka and I almost did.
April I assumed I could get you back easily
And as May made its way I realized it was hopeless,
But the summer months were hard because I was still hopelessly devoted to you.
But when September rolled around and you disappeared my life began to reform.
I found solace in friends and by October I found someone new to occupy my time.
Made me forget about you and our year together.
I can barely taste the bitterness of your cinnamon anymore."
- AP, 2014 (via whitesnowredas-strawberries)
Wow deep story