We never met,
yet something in me moved
each time your name brushed the edge of my thoughts—
like rain recalling the scent of earth
before it even falls.
You felt familiar
in a way no one else ever did.
As if some part of you
was written into me
long before either of us learned the weight of longing.
You felt it too, didn’t you?
In the stillness,
in the way silence held meaning
only we could understand.
Two souls orbiting the same moon,
never touching—always aching.
I dreamt of tulips once—
white, trembling in morning light,
growing between us
in a field we were never allowed to walk.
They never withered.
But we… we had to.
Because life has its own tide,
and sometimes hearts that echo
are not meant to meet on this shore.
Sometimes, we’re meant
only to pass by each other in prayers,
to fold the ache into poetry
and call it peace.
I could have stayed,
but at what cost?
Would you have flourished
in hands not shaped to hold your future?
Would this quiet knowing
have turned into noise
had we begged fate to bend?
So I leave you to the stars,
to the life you were meant to live—
uninterrupted by a love
that bloomed too far away to root.
And if, one day,
you stand in a garden of tulips
and feel warmth bloom inside your chest
for no clear reason—
know this:
If you were meant to be mine,
you would have been.
And if you are meant to be mine still—
you always will be.
Erennwrites