By Casey Young
Drunken rhetoric
As the new cascades onto the old
The stars, rekindling their love for the sky
Interrupted by match strikes
Fuzzy oranges and reds reflected in our eyes
A countdown superseding an already broken promise
Liquid topaz warming my throat as the numbers hug each other to “1!”
All the while, lovers are locking lips around me
Ensuring that the next year may not be started so lonely
Although, most of them seem lonelier than myself
Kept in better company by my pen and paper
By words
Scribbling them into permanence
“This will be my year” a drunken girl at the bar
This will be my year
Casey is an editor for The Apollos. Check out her bio here.