Year One
The first Christmas was laughter, jokes, and banter in the air,
The kind that makes you lose yourself and forget who else is there.
We talked until the hours flew, enchanted by the night,
There was magic in the moment, and a thrill that felt just right.
You found me in the Christmas crowd, and I remember thinking then,
How strange that something so brand new could feel so known again.

Year Two
The second Christmas carried something neither dared to say,
An undercurrent running through the words we threw away.
You asked me if I liked you, and the room seemed to grow still,
Two people hiding in plain sight, pretending they were chill.
You belonged, at least on paper, somewhere I could never be,
Yet somehow every Christmas night, you always came to me.

Year Three
The third Christmas was intensity, impossible to contain,
Endless hours of talking, then talking once again.
We held each other through the night, as though the world had fled,
And every word and every touch said more than could be said.
You were always meant for someone else, yet there you were with me,
As though for just one Christmas night, we were allowed to simply be.

Year Four
The fourth Christmas was quieter, with stolen moments passing by,
Less laughter filling up the room, more meaning in your eyes.
You found me, as you always did, though softer than before,
And somewhere in the silence lived the dream we’d never explore.
I sometimes wonder if you dream it too, the life we couldn’t choose,
The Christmas where you stayed with me, and neither had to lose.

Year Five
And now comes Christmas number five, and you don’t know I am gone,
You may still look across the room, expecting me to come along.
I wish that I could be there, more than I could ever say,
To hear your laugh, to steal that night, to let the hours slip away.
And if you find yourself remembering, when Christmas lights burn bright,
Just know I’ll be thinking of you too, somewhere beyond your sight.

For every year you found me, though you never could explain,
Perhaps something happened at Christmas that neither dared to name.
A man who always belonged elsewhere, yet found me every year,
As if some quiet part of you knew exactly why I was there.
And maybe that is Christmas: some things we never understand,
Some hearts that meet for one night, then let go of each other’s hands.