Seasons change, and so do we.
Winter, when I first met you.
The snowfall, my hands in yours as we went ice-skating drunk (not the brightest idea for someone who has never ice skated). Night Changes blared through the speakers as I tried not to fall on my face and on the radio on the way to your apartment – just something worth noting.
Winter brought first kisses and playing it cool, swearing that I won’t get attached this time, that I won’t fall apart yet again. And boy, was I wrong.
Spring marked the mornings, the sun shining on our faces as I woke up in your arms. Spring brought loneliness and fights, misunderstandings and miscommunication. But at the end, spring brought us closer.
And I knew, for a fact, it was love. I could feel it in moments of us acting like fools, us laughing at the silliest banters and in moments where you just held me, no words spoken. I could feel it when you looked at me, and when you smiled at me.
I wish I said it.
I wish I said it when I hugged you for the last time before heading home for summer, oceans apart. I wish the last time wasn’t the last time.
I wish it wasn’t the last time because it’d kill me not to see that smile again, it’d kill me knowing I won’t spend another winter with you.
Nothing has changed, you said. Nothing will, I hoped.
But seasons change, and so do we.
And it’s summer.