In Every Version of Every World

If There's Another World

If There's Another World
(What could've been)

In that other version of the world,
I think we didn't have to be so brave.
I think the timing was kinder,
and I didn't spend so long trying to unlearn the way I loved you.

But even here,
in this world full of noise,
you were always the quiet I came back to.

We're the kind of love
that speaks in glances,
in inside jokes,
in sitting together on the floor
because the couch was too far from the kitchen.

We never made it big.
But we made it real.
Love that fit in our palms-
soft, steady, patient.
The kind that forgives,
and remembers.

We were best friends before we realized
that kind of closeness doesn't happen twice.
And when the world hurt us-
as it sometimes does-
you never made me explain.
You just held me
until the pieces made their way back.

I think we filled the space between us
with something sacred.
And maybe one day,
I'd look at you across the quiet,
heart in my throat,
and ask,
"Do you really love me?"

And you'd laugh,
gentle,
like you knew the question before I spoke it.
You'd say,
"I've loved you
in every version of every world.
You just finally caught up to me."

And I'd believe you.
Because deep down,
I always did.