Favourite “What If”

The sun sets, soft and slow,

Like the way you used to make time go.

The wind teases, a mischievous breeze,

Whispering secrets, much like we did with ease.

At twenty-five, I thought I had it all—

Youth, charm, and your name to call.

By thirty, life grew a little tame,

But thinking of you still sparks the same flame.

Late nights aren’t as wild as they were,

But you—oh, you could always stir

The thrill of breaking every rule,

Time’s been kind, but you’re still my fuel.

I fell once, tripped on the thought—

Of how you’d laugh and tease a lot.

“Are you okay?” they'd ask, but no,

Your absence cuts deeper than they’ll ever know.

I count my years with a sly little grin,

Every line a story, every laugh a sin.

And though I’m "settled," I can’t deny,

You’ll always be the spark in my sky.

Time’s a flirt, but so am I,

And you—my favorite “what if,” no lie.

So here’s a toast to memories that stay,

And to the way you still take my breath away.

Thirties

At thirty,
time isn’t gentle.
It cuts you open,
slow and deliberate.
Every day,
a deeper wound.
The world doesn't care,
it only demands more.

People?
They come,
but only for what you can give.
When the need fades,
they vanish.
Gone like smoke,
leaving you cold.
They were never real,
and neither were you.

Work?
It fucks you raw,
promises a dream that isn’t yours.
Borrowed,
debt you’ll never repay.
You grind,
and the finish line laughs,
moving just out of reach.

Your body?
It aches in places
you never knew it could.
Ached for too long,
pushed too far.
Now it holds you down,
teasing and punishing.
You wanted it,
and now it takes its toll.

Happiness?
It’s not a chase.
It’s buried in the dark,
a cold hunger inside.
You earn it through breaking,
through the tension,
through the letting go.

And you?
You’ve learned the truth:
No one is coming to save you.
The road is yours,
dark, raw, real—
and now,
for the first time,
you’re not afraid.
You walk it alone,
and it feels like freedom.