maybe, in another life

There’s a part of me

that still lives in that moment—

where everything felt soft,

and you were close enough to believe in.

I know now

we were never meant to stay.

That life has its own map,

its own cruel geometry

that splits people apart

no matter how tightly they hold on.

But I cared.

I care.

Not in the loud, dramatic way.

More like a quiet ache

that lingers in the spaces

between one breath and the next.

You weren’t just a person to me.

You were a feeling—

a pause in the chaos,

a moment where everything made sense.

And maybe that’s why it hurts.

Not because we ended,

but because we couldn’t begin

the way we dreamed.

I try to move forward.

I really do.

But some nights,

I still look for you in the crowd of my thoughts.

I still imagine you turning the corner,

just once,

choosing me.

And I know—

we’re walking different paths now.

The world has stretched us out

like threads pulled in opposite directions.

But still,

some part of me craves it.

Not just you—

but the chance.

The maybe.

The what-if.

The miracle that one day,

this life folds over itself

and brings you back to me.

And if not here,

then maybe in another life—

where the timing is right,

the silence is kind,

and we are brave enough

to stay.

Until then,

I carry you quietly.

Like a truth I’ll never stop believing in.