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I wish she knew how easily
she turns the coldest morning warm.
It’s just us—two girls wrapped in scarves,
breathing clouds into the frosted air—
and still she doesn’t see
how my heart trembles for her
like a lantern in a snowy window.
She laughs at something small,
and the winter sun lands in her hair
like it was made for her alone.
She thinks it’s nothing.
I feel everything.
There is no one between us,
no rival, no “Heather,”
no third shadow in our story.
Just me,
just her,
and the endless quiet space
where she still doesn’t believe
I’m serious about her.
But God—
this December,
I hope she notices
how my voice softens around her name.
I can’t wait for winter break.
I want to take her skating,
hands cold at first
then slowly warming in mine,
gloves brushing,
fingers daring to tangle.
I want to walk with her
to the Christmas tree in the center of the city,
where the lights drip like stars
caught in branches.
I want us to stand there,
cheeks pink from the cold,
our breath mingling—
and let the city blur
so it feels like we’re the only two people
in the whole shimmering world.
I want to drink izvar with her,
the steam rising between us,
cinnamon and oranges clinging
to our scarves and eyelashes.
I want her laughter
to mix with the clinking of mugs,
so I can remember the sound
every winter after this one.
I want an evening of silly things—
taking pics with Santa Claus,
pretending we’re too old for it,
but secretly loving how close we have to stand
in those photos.
I want to walk through the busy December streets
with her hand in mine,
cars honking,
lights glittering,
holiday music echoing from the shops—
and feel her fingers squeeze back.
Gently.
Like she’s finally choosing me,
even just a little.
I want new memories with her,
ones that smell like pine branches
and roasted apples
and snow pressed into the cuffs of our boots.
I want her to see
that I’m not joking,
not teasing,
not playing.
That my heart is serious—
quiet, maybe,
but full.
This December,
all I want
is for her to look at me
the way I already look at her.
Even once.
Even for a second.
Maybe then she’ll realize
there’s an entire winter cottage
glowing inside my chest,
and every light in it
is lit for her.
by Onnaya
Comments
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Clara of Spacehaze
Your words are a 'feeling'. Not sure if it's nostalgia but something captivating, it's hard to describe really... which is magic in itself!
Love this poem; it's so adorable <3
Your poems really should be on all bookshelves (I'm putting my order in now). They are Gold :)
Oh wow… your words just melted my whole December.
The way you describe it “a feeling” that’s honestly the biggest compliment I could ever get.
If anything I write feels like nostalgia or magic to you, then I must be doing something right
And the bookshelf comment??
Stoppp~, now you’re the one turning into poetry.
Gold?? I’m blushing.
I’ll put you down for the first signed copy then
Thank you, truly it means more than I can explain.
Your comments always make the world feel a little softer.
by Onnaya; ; Report
Thank you for saying that. I believe in Credit where credit is due!
And yes, I do feel there's something very special in the effortless way you write, and the ambience it conjures... Wonderful <3
Carry on! :)
Are you on any other Poetry websites where you get a wider audience and comments? - like 'All poetry'? just a thought... :)
by Clara of Spacehaze; ; Report
noooooo.... and I didn't even know about such sites , I'll sure look into it and text you if I make some changes and get one one of those platforms
by Onnaya; ; Report
Thanks. It's definitely worth taking a look when you have a bit of spare time :)
It's a large community with some interesting features like Contests and a 'Front page pick' where a favourite poem of the month will be chosen and featured, which gains a wider audience and followers etc.
by Clara of Spacehaze; ; Report