This year of eight was tiring. It tested faiths, it separated a pair of white doves, and it colored a pale sad face. Could you define remarkable without griming the evidence of humility? Could you touch broken, and then lay a hand on a statue so lifeless and unmoving?

A broken window you gifted me,
The glass you broke, you made me feel.
I lived in the moment, I burned my hands.
I felt resonating sensations,
And the tears
They fell.

You own a heart.
And I squared myself.
I gave you a circle
And you hurt yourself.

I too noticed
I too felt
I too understand
I too can melt.

This was saturation on living, and the colors were perfectly mixed. I placed the paints to your lips – and trailed my falling tears wetting your sleeve. In a moment you wash away, in a moment the delicate edges contouring your face give. Here is where I stood last night, and here is where your face compels my sanity at night.

A blanket and a candle I held. A year is all I have and you left. Now I’m cuffed around my wrists, and you hold the keys. I speak and I feel, and I hold on to hurt. But letting go takes more of time and past guilt. I really am just me. I’m not titled wonderful and my veins don’t bleed in bliss. I’m clothed in fabrics in this cold, but when I walk past you I’m naked and warm.

If you really appreciate a year, and the hurt it gives, I hope you appreciate who I am. I don’t take back anything this year gave. Even if it was a bad year, even if I have a scratch or two, even if my bones are tired, and my feet are giving up on me. My heart is not made of steel, and I can easily break. A year and everything has changed.

I think in all my grey
Happiness kissed me,
But before it did,
It told me you make happiness what you make it seem.

I’m so happy and the world tonight smiles again,
The stars are dancing around the moonlight.
And as the moon stays for awhile,
Tomorrow the sun will shine.