An unwritten us

Ever since you walked into my life, I never cared about who you were, what you had, or what you could become— all that mattered was how gently you held me in your words. We were never lovers, just something softer, something almost— a space between friendship and forever, where you admired me like no one ever did before. You were serious, and I was not ready, too lost, too unsure, too afraid to hold something real— and somehow, I ended up hurting the one who only ever tried. Funny, isn’t it? Watering a dead plant every day never brings it back to life… but in my story, the flowers bloomed only after you were gone. Now I sit with your absence, breathing feels heavier than it should, and I don’t even know what to call this feeling— because I never loved you then, yet I miss you now like I lost something I never had. I wonder sometimes— if I had just said yes, if I had been ready, if I had chosen you the way you chose me… would we still be here? Maybe it was never about right or wrong, just two hearts arriving at different times. And whoever holds you now, whoever gets to see the way you love— they’re lucky, in ways I didn’t understand before. Maybe we weren’t meant to be, maybe we were just meant to pass