Until The Next September
Do you remember the 29th day of September, the night when everything quietly shifted? That was the very first night I knew I was readyāready to feel, to fall, to let love bloom in me like it had been waiting all along. My cheeks burned that night, turning pink at every glance, every word, every smile that slipped effortlessly from you to me. I never thought such a simple evening would become a memory Iād hold onto like a treasure, something Iād return to whenever I needed to remember what it felt like to be alive. That night, I thought I would like you forever, that September would never stop echoing your name in my heart.
But love changes, and so do we. A year later, on the very same day, we were no longer the same people we used to beāpriorities shifted, paths divided, and the version of us I once held on to faded into something bittersweet. Yet even now, as September draws to an end again, I canāt help but believe in its quiet magic. You made me feel seen for the first time, you made me remember what itās like to live and to love with an open heart. And deep inside, where hope stubbornly lingers, I whisper to myself: maybe when September comes again, youāll find your way back to me.

















