a hesitant spark;
in that fleeting moment
time as if folded,
two souls stitching their edges

yet we buried deep of what could have been
not in anger
but in quiet understanding—
a mutual surrender to the lives
that were never meant to intertwine

we became the weight of an almost—
a fire i couldn’t hold without burning,
a dream too vivid to stay asleep,
a heart so content, it could never be contained

so we carry each other;
not as a wound,
nor a regret,
but a quiet echo—
not in a way that demands the world to bend,
but in a way that whispers,
“in another life, maybe.”