I was merely a wanderer, wandering aimlessly.
How would I have known
that my destiny was written somewhere else?
How would I have known
I was never meant to be yours?
You had a single line for me,
where I kept half of the pages of my life
empty for you,
to write the verses of your poem.
I knew you wanted the sky,
I feared I was only gravity.
But I also knew I could have learned
to fly beside you
if only you had looked back once.
After you, I realized,
perhaps someone else is dedicating half of their book to me
when I only spared them a single verse in mine.
Feb 21
Feb 21, 2026 at 10:14 AM UTC
I was merely a wanderer, wandering aimlessly.
How would I have known
that my destiny was written somewhere else?
How would I have known
I was never meant to be yours?
You had a single line for me,
where I kept half of the pages of my life
empty for you,
to write the verses of your poem.
I knew you wanted the sky,
I feared I was only gravity.
But I also knew I could have learned
to fly beside you
if only you had looked back once.
After you, I realized,
perhaps someone else is dedicating half of their book to me
when I only spared them a single verse in mine.
Dedicated to the stranger who loved us a bit more than everyone else.
