When the clouds parted and the sun came out,
I noticed myself frown with contempt.
I was bitter that my clouds revealed that I was not yet ready
For flowers to sprout in my proximity.
Not when the sunshine blinds me, makes me delirious,
Choking for a breath on the warm air.
Forever suffocating in something that no one else can see.
I don’t care as much as I used to.
The experience of picking flowers
Just for them to shrivel not too long after.
They’re never what I want them to be.
They’ll never be what I need.
A wilted piece of Earth rotting in the back of my mind.
How I hate the sun in winter.
It’s not time for you to come out;
I am not ready.
The sun shines so eagerly, everyone smiling, basking in the sun…
I hate them all.
I wish to stay inside, find a place to match the way I feel.
I do not feel like dancing in strands of fleeting sun anymore.
It will all be gone tomorrow anyway.
How I love Winter.
I can hold my hand in the solidarity of my lovely mind.
You all repulse me with summertime sickness.
I crave the introspection of winter,
The quiet mornings, cozy nights.
In winter I am an artist.
So leave me alone in my kingdoms of icicles
I’ll let you know if I ever defrost this time.