Seasons of You

It was like this once: the spring flowers bloomed and brought you with them, and suddenly the April rains didn’t seem quite so heavy compared to the purple shadows under your eyes… I used to count your smiles like the newly green blades of grass and cherish your gaze as I did the rare sunbeams from behind the clouds. June came, and the oppressive heat it gifted was not enough to sweat the longing out of my skin; We used to stare up at the stars and swear, with secretive smiles reserved only for summer, that even the cool dismissiveness of autumn could not untangle our legs or forget the secrets we had spilled like sticky alcohol over your backseat. But it is winter now. A thick casing of ice has enveloped our history, and I know deep down that not all the summers of my past and future could thaw it out. Spring flowers are much too fragile for December frost.