January was way too cold to do so but we fell asleep naked with whiskey still on our tongues. we'd lose ourselves in each other, forget what resolutions ever meant. in the snow, by the fire, under the covers. we became nothing but being together. hands and breath. gravity and frozen water. murmuring and mouths and skin.
April was rainy mornings drinking coffee, listening to Dave Matthews or John Mayer, all those guitarists who i thought i was in love with before i met you. and it was beautiful, the guitar and his voice, as austere and clear as sitting next to you, given over to listening and kissing and loving.
July was not about fireworks or my birthday. it was about Red Bulls and never sleeping and making plans to change the world before the sun was up, like we needed taurine and every minute before we even realized it was all limited. before we realized that the world was actually changing us. it was about laughing hard with or without tequila and all that mattered was singing the summer away.
October was missing the fireflies and waiting for little monsters outside our door. it was remembering what color orange was again and what made you tick. it was eating pumpkin seeds and wishing for you to be up to midnight swims in the river again. it was brown and orange and red and not bad while it lasted.
December? now December is a month come expectedly soon. it is the start of snow and hot chocolate and Starbucks and instrumental music and reading books while eating candy canes. and the end of us.