There was a time—maybe not quite a moment, more like a flicker, a pulse—when something could have been. A shift in the atmosphere. A recognition in the soul. But time, memory, and circumstance all blurred together, and the opportunity slipped quietly through fingers that weren’t ready to hold.
What we felt in that split-second lifetime? It was real. The kind of energy that carries echoes from a thousand past lives. A spark that says, I know you. I remember you. The kind of knowing that comes with no logic, no explanation—just truth. And maybe, just maybe, in another place, another time, we would’ve danced. Full moonlight. Bare feet. Hearts weightless and full. We would have known each other deeply, without the armor, without the noise.
But that never happened.
And that’s the thing that’s always haunted me—softly. Like a whisper behind a closed door. The almost. The might-have-been. It makes me glance over my shoulder sometimes, wondering if I missed the mark. Second-guessing the steps I’ve taken since.
But some things… they’re better left where they lay. Unmoved. Untouched. Sacred in their stillness.
That reach-out—that desperate, hopeful thing—it never came. And in its absence, other doors opened. Better doors, maybe. Harder, definitely. But necessary. It was the silence that pushed me into the great unknown. Not to wander, but to protect. To provide. To lead.
So I walk forward. A lone warrior. Not lonely, just alone. There’s a difference. One is pain, the other is purpose. And mine is the kind of purpose that wears heavy, but fits well. A burden for some. A comfort for me. The price of being my own person. The half to my whole.
I’ve learned to build boundaries—real ones. Not lines in sand that shift with tides, but walls that hold their ground. They’ve been crossed. They’ve been blurred. And sometimes they’ve been shattered. But I’ve left them behind now. Buried where they belong.
And still… the universe has a sense of humor. A chance encounter. A fleeting reminder that the pull is still there. That unspoken thing. That energy that defies logic, time, or distance. It’s not imagined. It’s real. Familiar. Safe.
But I don’t stay long in that space.
My calendar is full. My day is already sprinting ahead, dragging me with it. There are things I must conquer. Not later—now. And though I feel you thinking of me—I know you are—I take a breath and let it pass. I pull my energy back.
There’s no good left between us. Just roads that veered long ago and kept going. Roads that don’t meet again.
We’re living in different worlds now. You’re still in the same place. Still stuck. And I—I’m moving. Forward. Relentlessly. Because I have to. Because momentum is everything. Because I can’t risk losing it… not even for you.
And maybe, in some other lifetime, we find our way to each other in full bloom. But not this one.
Not this time.
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