April Starts
October—we’re strangers, drawn to heat as autumn fades,
Lust rising, leaves rusting, a fleeting masquerade.
November—do you remember? Our passions set alight,
Fingers tracing constellations in the fire-lit night.
December—the year is closing, breath held, waiting still,
A question left unanswered—will we bend, or will we build?
January dawns, a fragile start, a thread begins to weave,
Tentative yet certain, something real beneath our sleeve.
February—doubt lingers, tangled thoughts and tangled sheets,
Slowly naming feelings neither dared before to meet.
March arrives—spring’s first warmth, the hush before the bloom,
Hopeful but unsteady, stepping forward, room by room.
The road ahead uncharted, the ending yet unknown,
But April brings the certainty—together, we have grown.