More New Years

OLIVIA PRITT

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Those loud hours had more to do with silence

and smoking became sandpaper to them.

We were trying to make the blunt hours softer but

moving forward is harder when you’re dizzy from spinning.

Yet it does go on, no matter which matters

weigh your nights down with pillows of regret.

And the days grow shorter

when you need them faster.

Those empty, thankful days.

The seconds move on like examples. Moments don’t come twice.

An extra blanket for battle.

An extra hour above.

I try to write them down.

An infinite number of words won’t make a paragraph on their own.

Overlooking time and looking for it.

I look myself in the face without a mirror this time–

How long was I asleep and how long do I have left?

Dawn licks dew from the grass—the seasons do change.

That’s always meant more than weather to me.

Looking for an envelope to fold myself into.

Is there a difference between sending nudes and poetry?

Yet I still think only my dog has really seen me naked.

Moods upon mountaintops—don’t come back down.

Leave them there. And you’ll be less distant.

But leave room for warm promises whispered into cool pockets.

Every person is different yet among billions

you’re the same.

So on these crowded streets I miss

something I don’t quite know.

But it’s less crucial than that. The difference isn’t between us.

I send words to somewhere and still don’t see why.

It’s human to be afraid to ask for anything. Anything will do.

But despite my urge to light, I try harder to become it.

Beneath dripping wax, I trade a burn

for romance and candlelight.

In this moment people love you–you love you.

You don’t need more new years to know that.

But first meetings can be genuine too.

Upside down, someone looks up to you.

Tomorrows’ mornings will bring mugs to gently burn your fingertips,

and I welcome the world you’re making.

You become your notes-to-self more often—people do learn.

You move on like an example.

And me, I’ll keep opening the door for strangers,

if you leave that one open for me—

You deserve the world you’re making.

The days will grow long when you need more of them.

You’ll look to everyone, until you look inside—

until you ruthlessly pursue

what’s best for you.

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