Back in August of 2019 I posted a poem that was based on a “types of girls” post on Pinterest. I’ve been wanting to write another poem based on another one of these Pinterest posts for quite some time, and I’ve finally finished it. I wanted this one to be equally meaningful, but still fresh and different. So, I’ve based this new poem on a “girls as months” Pinterest post. I wrote a lot of this poem in one sitting, but finished the end around mid-November.

I’m really proud of this piece, and I’m so honored that you all have been so kind and supportive of my creative writing. Your thoughtful and encouraging words mean the world to me, and it really does just solidify that this is the path God has destined for me.

I hope that this poem touches your soul. I hope that it makes you feel a little less alone and reminds you that God is still moving, even as the earth continues to darken.

january is stargazing again.

she’s too perceptive of others,

so she flips through photo albums while listening to mixtapes

to bring her thoughts back to the surface.

february is the hopeless romantic of the group.

she believes in butterfly kisses and rom-coms,

but secretly lives in pastel hoodies and messy buns.

no one looks twice at the doodles on her wrists and ankles.

march is losing her mind.

her coffee is always black and strong,

sitting in the background of documentaries and analytical puzzles.

people say she’s rude—

her friends know she’s endearing.

april doesn’t know how to survive without her morning rituals.

she blogs on rainy days with open windows

and book stacks covering every inch of her otherwise perfect bedroom.

brunch is her favorite meal of the day,

but she doesn’t know how to admit that she’s tired:

of the pressure,

of the expectations,

of the lifestyle that is bleeding her dry.

may made you another flower crown.

she invites you to coffee at a local shop

and always brings her ukulele.

her life is minimalistic, but that’s what she loves.

“no more, no less. simply enough.”

june has the best Instagram.

you see her outdoors and active,

but always alone.

sunshine and freckles light up her face

but you oftentimes wonder what’s killing her inside.

july dances late into the night

beside bonfires and sparklers and iced lemonade.

her laughter is wild and courageous—

she runs barefoot through the sand,

whispering, “forever young.”

august paints graffiti outside of Hot Topic.

she wears lace-up sneakers and torn demin sleeves,

but underneath her desk is a Wreck This Journal.

september feels out-of-place,

like she doesn’t quite belong anywhere.

she scribbles in notebooks and leaves herself behind in the margins,

praying that she can stop overthinking just this once.

october scares her friends when she’s angry.

her heart loves pumpkin-flavors and glittering coffee,

oh, please don’t remind her that she’s gullible—

let her believe she is clever.

november is knitting another jumper while wearing plaid again.

she thrives on neutral tones

because they remind her of herself:

always blending into the backdrop of cream and sugar

and songs nobody knows.

december is the mom friend.

she stands by with fresh baked cookies and a hug that feels like home.

whenever her friends say she’s mature for her age,

she hesitates to tell them it’s because she grew up believing

that being talkative was a crime.

twelve months.

twelve chances,

twelve dreams,

twelve uniquely complicated lives.

each one striving

to forget,

to be loved,

to be normal,

to be renewed,

to be enough,

to shut out the inner dialogue,

to live recklessly,

to be free,

to belong,

to overcome stereotypes,

to be noticed by anyone,

to unravel the lies planted deep in childhood.

twelve months.

twelve glittering, fragmented, wholly beautiful souls

who simply forgot that they are unforgettable,

that they are already loved,

that they were never meant for categories like normal,

that renewal is rising with the morning clouds,

that enough has been written into their destinies,

that their inner dialogue follows their spirit,

that living with purpose is better than abandon,

that freedom was bought with the blood of a humble king,

that they have always belonged,

that stereotypes can never define,

that they were noticed on day one,

that no lie can stand against the truth of the One who loved us first.

2 thoughts on “Months

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