Maybe Someday, We’ll Find Our
Maybe in another time, in another life, we’ll meet again—somewhere between the versions of us that loved too deeply and the ones that learned to let go. I still think about how it all began, how our hands once fit perfectly in a world that wasn’t built to last. We dreamed of a forever we couldn’t reach, and though we fought against the current, the tide still pulled us apart.
There are days I still trace the outlines of our memories—every laugh, every promise whispered in the quiet. It hurts, but it’s a beautiful kind of pain; the kind that reminds me I once loved sincerely, recklessly, without restraint. You taught me what it meant to give, to lose, and to grow. I learned that love doesn’t always mean staying—it sometimes means setting someone free, even when every part of you wants to hold on.
Now, when I walk alone through familiar streets, I find pieces of you in passing faces and fading sunsets. I wonder if you still remember too, or if I’ve simply become a distant echo of your past. I’ve made peace with the ending, yet there’s a quiet hope that lingers—that maybe the world will spin us back toward each other someday, not as the same people who broke, but as the ones who healed.
And if that day comes—if our paths cross again—I’ll smile. Not out of longing, but out of gratitude. Because once, we existed in the same heartbeat, and that will always be enough.
