Halcyon

January's Gamble (Version II)

A/N: It is the same poem, but just with different tone, words and prolly, much rawer.  Because I am a sadist. Haha, no, I wanted to try a story-like version about a love-story. Am I having this story out in as a short novella? Hmm, maybe. Maybe not. Till then, I'll let January gamble, lol. Just to be clear, January's Gamble is Her POV, December's is his POV, and between December and January, is where the secrets lie. *sigh and sigh*

Long before the end,
he stood at the peak,
a place I believed was mine,
but I faltered,
just a breath too late,
a delay that rewrote our paths.

He was there,
where I could only dream to be,
the light, the success—
and I, watching from the shadows,
felt it slipping away,
just an inch,
just a second too long.

Then we met—
not with a grand gesture,
but in small, unexpected moments,
words flowing freely like water
until they filled spaces between us,
delicate and unguarded.

A text, casual at first—
a simple "Hey"
which somehow kept us tethered
to a dance we both weren't sure we were ready to join.

And the words came faster.
Long conversations,
too raw, too honest,
tracing every vulnerable part of me,
and yet he offered little of his own—
just enough to keep me craving more.

Harmless flirts turned real,
like fire brushing skin,
small sparks growing in the gaps between us,
until I could feel the heat on my chest
and the tug of something dangerous.
I knew it was all a game,
but I couldn't stop playing.

I was drawn to him,
to his every gesture,
his every word—
the charisma so sharp,
the narcissism so clear.
It almost felt intoxicating,
but beneath the allure,
I could feel the weight of it,
this wasn't love,
just a game we were both pretending to play.

December came,
and with it, the sweetness
of moments once innocent,
now loaded with more than we said.
I almost believed it—
believed we were in sync,
believed that maybe...
just maybe,
he felt it too.

But something shifted.
January arrived cold—
a chill seeping into every space between us.
The words grew fewer,
the silence stretching too long,
each text I sent sinking
into that abyss where no answers came.

I tried reaching out,
too often,
too late,
but he withdrew further—
just a word here, a cold silence there.
I could feel him pulling,
but I couldn't grasp why.
Did I misread it all?

I miss those days of December,
the heady simplicity of our exchange.
But deep inside, I know
this is not the person I was waiting for.
It wasn't real,
was it?
It was a situation that neither of us needed,
a dangerous game
where the stakes were higher than either of us understood.

And still, I search the screen,
hoping for something more,
when I know—
I know,
he's not the one for me.
I'm not the one for him.
And yet, every time the phone rings,
my heart skips.

Maybe he caught something too,
maybe I played my cards too boldly,
but I can't trick myself,
I can't believe this is love,
because it never was.

The gamble, the risks,
the endless chase—
it's a game I shouldn't play,
but when his name flashes on the screen,
I still find myself wondering,
wondering what's left to feel.

And just like that—
December's warmth fades,
and January's cold remains.
But the question hangs still in the air—
why can't I let go?
Why can't I walk away?

********