I met you in the midst of cold January.
I wanted to know you more.

In the following month of February
You were already somebody's whore.

In March, I kind of forgot you
And I was two or three people's bitch.

But, in April I had to let my heart heel
From the cuts and scrapes with stitches.

May, I started to grow hopeless,
Desperate for your face.

June, you dissapeared off the earth
Without a single trace.

In July, I set off fireworks.
I could barely remember your smile.

But, In august I met you once more
And we talked for a little while.

September, we united.
I remember when the sparks flew.

In October I spoke of nothing
But how much I loved you.

In November, sadly,
Things fell apart.

But December was my turn
To break your fucking heart.

*Author's note: This is a true story.
 
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