January's Wishes Spoken Through the Dishonesty of April.

Her eyes amused me, slices of January that held April tightly.... she could rain in snow, drop from upside-down skies, and we held tightly to the tears that only appeared on the opposite side of closet doors as we marked our claim on unusual with hand prints that never saw the sun. Two days could have passed underneath us before we blinked, my windows whispered glorious promises but we kept them closed for safety, for the opposition of who we could be, and she knew the secret of every season, she knew how to laugh when bedroom doors... closed. I drew her behind the mirror and we created October across December stars, we became disobedient underneath the glorious names we sang that night for lips speak magic when they pretend to lie and dishonesty was but a kiss away from sunrise. Time stung me come August, come March, come the age of thirty-two, her eyes had been shut for years now and she sunk beneath flowers I am positive would be beautiful enough to photograph had I the courage to glance, but my feet have never crossed the grass that blankets her and roots her promises... tangled beneath tomorrow with a tight grasp on yesterday, and I wonder if the days have yet to fade the color of her hair. It rained in January when I existed miles away, teardrops of memories that fell as softly as the whispers of her name, I closed the bedroom door tightly and listened intensely for the echoes of dishonesty, for she remained there, somewhere, behind mirrors that painted her and the lies that bit my tongue, that reassured me... our hand prints would hide from summer... covered in ice-cream secrets that screamed her pain from a smile, from a foolish wish that spoke us inseparable. Her eyes, blue as October, slapped me, that day, as they painted themselves the secrets girls are never supposed to witness, as they refused to allow April to fall but declared honesty with the beauty that she could never see.