Maybe the prospect we by no means obtained is the cliffhanger I’ll must be taught to dwell with. Maybe our story is the one which by no means will get to be rewritten. Maybe that is the one universe we ever get to exist in.
And perhaps you and I simply don’t get an opportunity to make this proper.
Maybe the phrases that we mentioned don’t get to be something however damaged. Sharp. Cutting. Maybe I’ll by no means be taught to swallow my heartbreak and maintain it from leaping out of my chest and inflicting collateral harm. Maybe there are just a few folks we don’t get to like without end.
Maybe your eyes don’t really appear like the colour of chilly espresso lengthy after the ice has melted. Maybe they’re simply brown. Maybe you’re not the one one that can ever make me really feel protected, liked, and okay simply as I am. Maybe it’s harmful to imagine that solely another person could make you are feeling these issues in any respect.
Maybe I’ll at all times have just a bit bit an excessive amount of to say to you. Maybe there’s one thing about you that can at all times make poetry bleed out of me.
Maybe some folks cross our paths to interrupt us. Or perhaps they arrive into our lives for no motive aside from coincidence. Whatever the explanation you have been right here, perhaps I’m glad you entered my environment in any respect. Or perhaps I’m not.
Because perhaps we’re higher off as strangers. Maybe sooner or later your title will imply nothing to me aside from as somebody I used to know, your syllables fading into the backdrop of my life as I try in the direction of a tomorrow with out the hope of an us in it.
But perhaps I don’t need that in any respect. Maybe I simply want time. Maybe you do, too. Maybe I simply have to allow you to go slowly till the freefall doesn’t sound so scary anymore. And perhaps you simply can’t be the one to catch me.
And perhaps, simply perhaps, sooner or later we will be pals. Actual pals. Just pals.
And perhaps I’m okay with that.