“Will you be alone on Christmas?” he asked me out of the blue,
I paused to consider his question, its implication still askew.
But soon as I apprehended the import of his query,
As if I had always sensed it, with no need for his inquiry.
That Christmas, I was not alone,
though unforeseen, ’twas you who came to me,
Perhaps you had known it all along,
And that’s why you asked the question,
to uncover what was yet unspoken,
As if you’d glimpsed our destiny’s truth,
a bond we’d shared without a token.
But, uncertainties lingered,
questions unrequited, emotions concealed,
“What are we?” and “What could we be?”
Our love’s potential yet to be revealed.
I longed for clarity, for the doubts and confusion to be shed,
To be with you, wholeheartedly, or to let go instead.
Would you wipe away my tears, my dear heart,
And let our future be a promise of delight?
Together as we marvel at Brighton’s beauty,
Would our love take flight,
Or would you let me go, so my heart may wander free,
So I can look forward to what’s meant to be?
I had you, yet I did not,
for our hearts remained in uncertainty’s sway.
And though I was not alone,
a void within me had begun to weigh.
For though our time together was sweet,
my heart still flew,
Till I dared ask, “What are we?”
and lost even the half
of what I had of you.
And so, if I could turn back time,
And answer him anew,
my heart now firm and bold,
I’d answer, ‘I’d rather be alone
than settle for love that’s cold.