Butterflies bound through the night’s sky, painting pictures for the stars, staying out past their curfew. The moon makes a wish, her eyes brim with bright hopes, and the promise of new memories.

I’ve wished on so many stars that the entire sky knows my face, but tonight, as the night fades, and I fall asleep, I find it a little easier. The Winter has only just become, but I feel Spring, desperately reaching out for me from beneath the soil.

Steel on my wrist, smile on my face, her on my mind, her name on my lips. We kiss as the clock strikes five, restless and relentless, and I long for her, battling my bonds, but never quite free.

I am in a whirlpool, struggling in the suffocating waves, holding onto hope as a hand reaches out to me, but as usual, it just adds someone else’s pain to my sinking shoulders, and there is nothing to do but drown.