Maybe the universe hasn’t finished
weaving the thread that connects us.
Maybe the morning sun still burns
with the memory of that Thursday,
the one we spent unaware
that we were saying goodbye without speaking.
Maybe there is still a ghost of a feeling
hovering near my ribs
the weight of your arms, safe and steady,
a shelter I didn't know I needed
until the roof was ripped away.
Maybe, in some twist of fate and mercy,
we collide again.
Not with fireworks, but with quiet certainty.
Just a moment where your eyes find mine
and the
kiss tastes like forgiveness,
like coming home after a
long, cold
war.
And maybe that wasn’t the
end at all.
Maybe it was just a
long pause,
a quiet
winter
waiting for the spring.
Maybe there is a loose end
that I am still holding,
and you are holding the other
And maybe, with enough
time,
the hands of fate will loop us back around,
not to patch a
hole,
but to continue the design
exactly where we left off...
I miss you. I love you
always