January Haze

I miss you these days and wonder if you feel the same.

I recount your childish ways. We are a distant memory, yet to fade.

A spring of warming arrays! A particular emotion pairs with your name.

Your inquisitive gaze towards untold explanations upon my face.

I trace the coffee stains to ignore your passive displays.

Loose ends remain and it is an inviolable shame.

Now, with a settling blaze I am here to claim:

There is no one to blame. It is just painfully, too late.

There was a mutual role to play. To fate, we must obey.

You are the reason I stayed. But it is my bed, so I lay.

I miss you these days. After the January haze,

I have braved some change. Likewise, I pray.