Bring Me Summer

I feel the seasons change like an old abandoned mood ring,

each drop or rise of temperature follows suit with my emotions.

This summer I am manic,

I can feel the build within me.

All of my promiscuous endeavors,

all of my split decision impulse,

desperation at it’s finest,

to replace the thoughts of you.

I am finally over winter,

because I became the spring,

my tears, the rain that watered gardens I had grown for you,

gardens full of poison vines and weeds.

Yes, I am welcoming the mania,

a long desired distraction from the thought of your silhouette at dawn,

the taste of your name on my tongue no longer bitter, but stale.

Our memories are withered like a book whose pages have turned too many,

and darling,

I am sick of writing poetry for you.

– Brittany Rickard


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