Endless January

The cold persists.

January’s grip tightens, and the days are long, and heavy with an unbearable sameness.

I wake each morning to the same gray sky and silent street, as if the world has forgotten to change.

How easily the days blur together, indistinguishable from one another,

as though time itself were mocking me,

trapping me in this eternal January.

I glanced at the calendar,

Wondering why the 14th was

circled in red, inside a heart.

It's August now, but the page remains unturned—

As if time itself refused to move on

I try to turn the page, but my heart won’t let go

it won’t let go.