Month of march, a spell of greens and pots of gold. Rainbows that extend crystalline ribbons of airy color across the sky. 31 long days of rich sun and short nights of sweet moonlit festivities. A season of spring, birthing new growths of rolling emerald hills and flowering trees. Departed leaves no longer crunch beneath my footsteps and the wind doesn’t bite at my skin as much. The bite is something fresher and one of greater warmth, pressing down on the pouty pinks of my lips. The taste of March’s candied citrus briefly sweetens my inside from the bitter months of chilling winter. The trees now shed their past petals and my skin follows, shedding remnant kisses that have gone cold. A winter coat of memories, now invisible, reveals new life to my pigmented skin in the sun’s wake.
But my body, bare from the cloak of cold memories, misses their reminding chill. The spring sunlight melts their frost into a cascading water, one that imitates my tears. And the sun’s light now stains my skin with a deep tan, veiling embedded spots of winter’s caress. With the absence of crunching leaves sounding my steps, the cracks of my heart are more pronounced and far less soothing. The nips at my pink lips are sweetly warmer and fresher, but I miss the lively passion of winter’s embrace. Those long ardent nights that were a fever dream and the days in which my pale skin lolled beneath an icy lust. How my body froze under the moonlight, entranced with snowflake sprinkles of lips over my flesh. 31 long days of rich sun and short nights of sweet moonlit festivities subdue those lingering cold touches without mercy.
March, a month of pots of gold and crystalline rainbows, known for its luck and good fortune. Yet a coat threaded thin with spring’s surface glamor will never bear the same beauty of those snowflakes etched kisses. Along with the seasons, along with melting kisses and fading memories, winter’s biting beauty ebbs away with them.
