Primaveras invernales; aspirinas enamoradas

Summer.

We first met. You have a rock star soul; and a heart full of ice. I have glitter running through my veins; and nearly 13 forest fires inside my brain. I know this won’t have a happy ending, but I’d like to give it a try.

Getting closer to the danger brings me peace. I have found a home beneath a tornado.

Fall.

I’d like to get close to you. Not just physically. I’d love to explore your way of thinking, and sail through your thoughts.
I’m melting for you.
“I really like you. Really, really, really,” you said.
I’m melting for you.
I have just started stopping being myself.

Winter.

We are not capable of seeing; yet we aren’t blindfolded.
“Love’s blind,” they say.
We called it “love,” but I was actually hurting. You’d hurt me.
I was asphyxiated. I thought it was just a need for an everlasting nap.
Didn’t know it was actually death, knocking on my door.

Spring.

I am born again. The ashes from my fires, and your cold-hearted feelings led to something beautiful.
My independence, my newfound strength and my bravery were slowly replacing your “love.”
You’ll never bring me down. Dare to put out my fire; I won’t hesitate to scorch you.

—By Beatriz C., 18, Spain ♦