button Eye Poetry Contest – Runner Up
January is a bitter month, face crumpling
in a lemon-suck scrunch, burning the inside
of your mouth and leaving an aftertaste.
January is barren, a weeping mother who
lost her newborn after the first snowfall.
January pulls tears from the corners of
your eyes, unforgiving and cruel. January
is a punishment, hiding the sun under
lint-cloud skies and pulling the comforter
of nightfall over our heads early in the
evening. January sucks the marrow from
your bones and smacks its lips, savoring
what is left of the warmth we hoarded
during the languid summer months.
January is a possessive lover, stealing
the breath from your lungs, crawling
into bed and shackling you to the head-
board, whispering empty promises and
wrapping its arms around us and suck
a bruise onto our ribcages. January is
eternal, has existed longer than Death,
and will continue to live as an empty
entity. January has taken these words
and coated them in ice, and they stick
to my tongue and it hurts to pry them
out of my mouth.
Jennifer is 25 years old and from outside of Philadelphia. She is a current student at the Chicago School of Professional Psychology in Chicago pursuing her doctorate in Clinical Psychology. Her work has appeared on The Esthetic Apostle and Haunted Waters Press. She enjoys reading at open mic nights, advocating for body positivity, and empowering her readers through her writing.