ancient cedar
it’s december again,
the end of 2025 is near;
just like that,
seasons pass—
day turns into night,
and night into day.
the sun rises, anyway,
but it'll never be the same.
it will never be december 2024,
or the ones before.
it will never be the version of me
i was then,
nor the people
i have left behind.
the innocence
that slowly learned the weight
of knowing too much.
the fun
that learned to flinch
at the reminder of a name.
oh, if only i knew
how much i would lose—
someone i love,
someone i used to love,
or even a friend,
all in one year.
if only i had known
that in twelve months
this place, this me,
these people
would quietly disappear.
i would have cherished more,
i would have adored more,
learned every cell of their being,
never taken my eyes off.
but now i remain
with nothing more
than nostalgia—
a longing
to go back,
to keep them locked away forever,
to make sure i never lose them
on my way to this day.
a longing for one last chance,
one last dance.
now i remain
with nothing more
than regrets.
the tears i shed,
the time i wasted,
the longing, the yearning
the fight to keep them—
yet i spend this winter
reminiscing
what could’ve been.
pulsar herald
lilac leaf
red quail
buoyant apex