Traditionally it would seem
January is not so kind
it (and I)
beginning in fact
as a porcupine, kind of cute but
rather spiky
bits of holiday detritus
persistently strewn everywhere
sunless days
in dull stretches of freeze and
thaw
when the neck of my sweater feels
too tight
the strands of hair that brush my neck feel set
for strangulation
the skin on my face becomes speckled
in dots of sugary over-indulgence
and the lack of personal space is much too
close
and somewhat stifling
sharp words guaranteed to
burn
bubbling up at the ready
in my head and in my throat
like a growing nausea, I use all energies
to keep them down
avoid unnecessarily releasing
quills that cannot be removed quite
so easily
without of course, leaving holes
I am breathing my way through
in deep not so subtle
sighs
these being my small attempts
at mercy
last week, to begin
I burned the palm of my hand quite badly
now I am bothered by the nasty scar
left behind
find I am touching it more in
retributions of carelessness
rather than
gentle kindness
I suppose this is where the winter
sets in
the bleakness of days
the weight
I resist the urge to power through
these shadowy days of
self-exposure
instead I take them gently
with tea
knowing this too shall pass ♥