Broken Wishes

The calendar flipped, new year, fresh page,

a promise made beneath the starry night.

Yet March rolls in, the softest cage,

regret bubbles up, a sour bite.

That post-it note, bright ink on white,

clings to the fridge like yesterday's stain.

Each tick of the clock brings shame to light,

my resolve, scattered like drops in the rain.

I thought I could change, become someone new,

but comfort wrapped me in its warm grasp,

now all I hold is a wish untrue,

a fleeting moment, a fading clasp.