Halcyon

December's Afterglow (Version I)

A/N: I tried something new and challenging! This is like, 'his' response to the first poem (Version I). I just got a stunning idea for Version II, and it'll be out soon, more heart wrenching and potent. 

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. 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*

I didn't notice at first—
your eyes, your voice,
how they crept beneath my skin.

There were too many other things to think about—
too many other faces,
too many places to be
until you walked in
like a summer breeze
disrupting the still air I was used to.

It was simple at first,
just a word,
just a casual phrase,
flirting from the corners of my mind,
nothing more than a passing thought
and yet,
you, with your warmth and the spark of something unseen,
you made everything seem different.

I felt the subtle pull
before I even knew I was pulled.
Texts turned into calls,
and those calls—
those long conversations at night,
revealing pieces,
fraction by fraction,
pieces of me that I wasn't sure I even had.

You kept giving—
so much of yourself,
layer after layer stripped away in the dark,
and there I stood,
half-submerged,
listening to the sound of your silence
and the way your vulnerability spoke louder than any words.
It made something inside me stir—
something I couldn't quite place,
but it was real,
and so I kept coming back for more.

But somewhere—
a thread began to fray.
I was afraid of what you were finding in me.
Afraid of the way I saw you looking
like you could unravel all the things I built,
things I didn't know how to protect.

So, I gave.
And took.
Not even realizing that with every exchange
we were feeding something that wasn't love,
but maybe it wasn't nothing either.

December came,
a month where the air was full of heat,
laughter that never felt genuine enough,
but felt real enough to be true.
I didn't care then,
I couldn't care.
It was reckless,
foolish even,
but it felt like something to be had.

You felt close,
but I knew,
even then,
we were standing on opposite cliffs,
sides that I didn't want to acknowledge,
even when they stared me in the face.
I never wanted anything serious,
yet I let myself believe
that maybe, for a moment,
we were two pieces of a broken thing
that could fit together.

But then January came.
And it wasn't the cold
that gripped me.
It was the realization.
I'd stepped too far in,
let too much slip,
and somewhere along the way
lost my balance.

I watched as you reached,
tried to bridge the silence,
but I felt it,
a pressure too heavy to ignore.
You were there—
still, sending message after message,
words that fell like raindrops
into the gaps where we once burned.

But I felt it slipping,
out of my hands,
out of my reach,
like water through cracked fingers,
and I didn't know how to make it stop,
didn't know how to pull away
without cutting something that had already begun to fade.

I was reckless with my own feelings—
no longer knowing which direction I was facing,
but when I looked back,
I couldn't help but see how far I'd gone.
The conversations became questions,
the words I used were clipped,
never enough to explain
the sudden distance I felt inside,
but still not enough to leave.

I couldn't let myself fall
but didn't want to watch you slip either.
You needed more than I could offer,
more than I could give.
And I was left to wonder—
had I fed you empty promises
or just drawn you into a game
I knew wouldn't end well?

I knew your heart,
knew it was a place full of longing,
but I was a liar—
an actor,
too skilled at playing a part
I could never quite inhabit.
What you gave,
I took,
but not without cost—
because I knew all along
I was never the one who could be there.

And still, when I picked up the phone,
a glimpse of your name sent ripples in my mind,
but each time I set it back down,
the quiet weighed heavier.
I missed the fun,
the careless laughter of December,
but I couldn't trick myself anymore.
I could feel it—the tug to walk away—
and it wasn't even your fault,
it was always the silence
that followed the storm.

I should have told you
that I wasn't who you needed,
that this—whatever it was—
was never meant to stay.
But I didn't.
I kept you on a thread,
made you wait,
while I watched myself slip,
and I could no longer run from the truth.

Your messages lost meaning.
I knew it couldn't work.
But I still couldn't look away,
couldn't stop the cycle.
The phone rings,
and my eyes seek answers
I know I'll never find in you.

And still—
like a fool,
I remain on the edge,
wondering when you'll realize
I was never the answer
you thought you wanted.

And that, perhaps,
is my mistake.
Maybe I've been searching too long
for something that wasn't mine to claim.

***********