They woke up still tangled-
not just in sheets,
but in everything they hadn't said,
everything they didn't know how to keep.
The night had not erased the distance between them-
it had rewritten it.
Briefly.
Gently.
Like a hush held between heartbeats.
In this version,
they did not leave.
In this version,
love didn't vanish by daylight,
or dissolve into memory.
It stayed.
They stayed.
These next two poems are what might've unfolded
in the quiet of that morning-
had the world bent just slightly differently.
Had their hands not let go
when everything else still ached to hold on.
One voice reaching.
One voice finally letting herself be reached.
A version
where tenderness was enough.
Where fear softened.
Where they met not in ruin,
but in return.
Let this be that morning.
Let this be the version-
for those who still ask:
What if we stayed?
What if love had been enough?
YOU ARE READING
In Every Version of Every World
PoetryA soft anthology of alternate endings and love that lingers. Quiet poems, what-if reflections, and tender scenes from other lives - where love comes back, or maybe never left at all. For the ones who still wonder what could've been.
