January feels cold in a way that settles into the bones
and every day carries the weight of something unfinished.
Your love is not mine to hold completely
yet the quiet between us still feels warm
whenever we meet in the hidden corners of the world.

We live in a month of grey skies and long nights
but when your eyes find mine
something gentle opens
the way a small flame survives in the snow.

Even with the ache of what cannot be fully ours
I feel a thin line of brightness far away
a soft glow at the edge of the horizon
that tells me the darkness is not forever
and that spring is already learning our names.