One more step

The footsteps of the night approach, with a deep breath coming from lungs as each step rebounds. The sound of the opening door penetrates my ears and I hear how the door I just came through into this maze closes with thump that resounds in my ears. I'm blind, my hands guide me as they touch the walls, the walls that once in a while curse me with a crooked nail that leave a mark on my skin. Every mark will stay, I know, but I won't them stop me from reaching the door in the somber darkness.

My breaths become more prominent in the long hallway and my feet get tired of walking. But I don't stop, the reward is at the end. I know the sun is waiting for me, and it will fill my vision with warmth and remove the anxiety from my bones.

My hands finally feel the doorknob in the tips of the fingers.

Betrayers

I though my words came from the pink of the flowers.

I thought the smell of coffee gave me the letters.

I though the waves in the sand were my notebook.

I was so wrong.

My words walk between the grey of the clouds,

and they move with the cold wind until they reach my hands.

The letters don’t want the warmth of the morning,

but the loneliness and apathy of the night.

The cement between allies isn't alone,

my notebook falls in it once in a while,

determined to be stroked by my poems.

I thought my sighs stroked my cheeks,

not scaled them.

I though the moon was on my side,

not on my dreams’.

I thought my fingers freed me,

not trapped me in a constant yes or no.

I was so wrong.

I suppose it’s my thoughts

the ones that aren't on my side after all.

Go down in flames

The end is inevitable and all the surrounding trees know it. They gather the conversations in their branches, waiting for winter to turn them cold and melt into memories with the snow. The laughter and the promises are waiting to be broken by the hot summer sun, who's hopelessly begging to be born again. He is waiting to walk hand in hand with the deadline of this bond. He will laugh at their ignorance and at the girl's pretend to be part of a landscape she's been cut off by her own mind. 

The boy and girl know what will happen, they'll jump into the spring gleam in the water and drown. They will be at the bottom of the lake, wondering why and how. They'll come up, far away from each other, finally breathing realization.

She will grab the flowers and tell them how confused she was, how misplaced her butterflies were. He will curse at the birds and explain to them how she made the snow seem whiter and how she spoke words she didn't believe. "Liar!" The sky will scream next to him, making a single tear flow down her cheek. A tear made of apology and anguish from what they once were. A tear sparkling distraction and mistake. A tear that will say "I told you so, you fool."

Flaming

I saw how the paper burned with the fire of January, the flames took those four numbers to its promise drawer. The drawer is full of some concluded goals, and some broken ones. I was speechless in front of the chimney, with the intention that the drawer never received any more broken pieces. I remember the sparks of change in the indigo sky and the stars’ tears. In what way were the minutes noticed, with a memory with each ring of the bell.

January opened its arms to me with jubilation my coat for the end of winter. We walked together paraphrasing the words of the awaited, thanking the sigh of the fourteen at the end of the calendar. We walked until it said goodbye, introducing me to February. February, dressed in pink and with a camera in its hand, helped me begin a photo album next to my heart. It portrayed me with smiles at my sides and intertwined hands. Now, my hands brush against the pictures going back to that

February disappeared stealthily and I encountered March. The wise March, who taught me to hold on to the valuable and that the valuable isn't an object, but a repeated word, a look through the trees and a retained symphony. April called to my door without warning and fell when coming in, as if it didn't know how to intertwine its path and mine. Its first gaze was icy, impassible, a pair of eyes that will never leave my mind. As fast as it had freeze me, it came to my rescue and its eyes turned blue, like the water it took me to visit and its teeth white, like the clouds I flied over. Softly, it guided me towards May, who waited for me in a rock, contemplating how the flowers were born out of the trees. In that rock we talked about love and its piece in the puzzle.

June only brushed my shoulder but it was such a strong brush that it took my breath away, making me forget where I was headed. July unwrapped me, it made me believe that we are nothing more than actions between gestures and the sun needs us as much as we need him. August tore me from July’s side and took me far, very far. However, before taking me he let me wrap the allusions and put a bow on them, it was fast, even so remarkable.

September had a hard time getting here, with its shyness traveling in its back. When it reached me, it took me to another world, to unknown gestures between the green and white. He told me quietly that its next companions would make me run and jump in this place. It wasn't lying, October trapped me with its force and planted the future in my path. It was cold, but not as much as November. Hot chocolate and new faces made themselves present in the snow of the eleventh month. Before I could grasp it, without warning, December approached and hugged me, ready to end this year having left a mark on my skin. Next to its cinnamon breath and green and red look, I write another paper while the little fire grows.