So much changes in a year.
Snow melts into a slow drip drip drip
that erodes into spring
and it swells into some sort of scab
you can’t stop picking, or
that won’t stop picking you.
It pushes your ribcage out
and tears the soft underbelly
of a comfort since lost.

Rushing all too soon into summer
and everything stops.
Because there are cotton candy clouds,
and smiling children with popsicle lipstick,
and past-bedtime bags under their eyes.

But there isn’t anything,
and it falls apart soundlessly.
The trees in the forest
that fell when no one could hear,
will lose their leaves soon … sorry.
Fall is a slow explosion
of all there ever was.
Leaves die, trees die,
people die too.

And it’s this unstoppable lava of time,
that moves so slowly,
yet no person on this godforsaken earth
could catch it.
It just trudges into
winter trenches and
we all sleep.

Winter’s broken fingers
try to fix the broken mess
their snow created,
yet frosted windows and inviting lights
do nothing to conceal
the agony of the end,
the pain in yet another new year,
as the snow melts.