Futaba

I will be someday, 

gone, 

that is. 

When I am, 

I hope the pine needles still grow thick 

covered thick 

with snow. 

Every year, December comes around again,

Like an old friend, 

One who you haven’t seen in a long time.

For many people, December brings happiness, and warmth.

Why do we wonder? 

Is is a quiet rebellion? Refusal to accept It as it is? 

A mental shield to protect from routine and repetition?

Is its continual persistence to blur the harshness of reality?

My favorite comfort item is a doll my aunt gave me. I named her Didi; I don't really know why, but that's been her name for just about as long as I can remember. 

Headphones on, life off.

Turn up the sound 

to drown out

the deluge of my worries,

let the rhythm burn

my ears, ignore

the sting, because my

cheap blue headphones 

bring me

No. I don't want to love you.

I don't want to play songs that sound like you

until they become my whole head, I don't want

to write a poem 

if you ever call me laughing and cold