In Every Version of Every World

In Every Version

In Every Version
(What I Still Believe)

In that other version of the world,
we found each other earlier-
maybe in a bookstore,
or on a park bench where you forgot your coffee.

But even here,
in this world,
I knew you before I knew your name.
Like muscle memory.
Like a story I'd already lived.

You and I,
we're the quiet kind of love.
The "I saved you the last bite" kind.
The "come home to me" kind.
Built on late-night talks, shared silences,
burnt dinners and laughter that spills into our sleep.

We don't have to shout to be heard.
We don't have to be loud to matter.
I see you.
You see me.
And somehow,
that's always been enough.

We hold space for each other-
in grief, in joy,
in the days we feel like too much
and the days we don't feel like anything at all.
We hold on.
We stay.

And maybe one night,
you curl up against me,
your fingers tangled in mine,
and whisper,
"Do you really love me?"

I'd smile.
Tuck your hair behind your ear.
And tell you the truth I've carried forever:

"I've loved you
in every version of every world.
You just finally caught up to me."