in another universe:
you don’t leave the city.
my hand is still in yours,
it’s 10:40am,
you can't take your eyes off of me while you eat your brunch.
we never have to worry about making it work,
because it just does,
it always has.
and you hold my hand,
and (this time) you don’t let go.

in another universe:
we never meet.
or maybe we do but maybe this time i don’t say yes to the brunch
i listen to my brain instead of my heart and run at the first sign of trouble.
i’ve always been good at that, right?
i hold my breath instead of your hand,
and i don’t let you kiss me after two glasses of wine.
and something
feels off.
but i don’t know what it is, so it’s alright.
and maybe i miss someone,
but (this time) i don’t know who i’m missing.

in this universe:
i felt the shift ever since you left the city.
i called too much and decided this is what love feels like.
isn’t this what love feels like?
you held my hand when i asked you to
and kissed my neck like you might still want me
and maybe you still wanted me
but it wasn’t enough to make it work.
i would’ve made it work,
if you asked.
i cried on the car while i listened to our songs that aren’t even our songs because i never showed them to you,
but i don’t care
because you’ll never hear them now.
i think about us in the city
and i think about us at our first brunch
and i think about all the times you said:
baby
we can make it
you and me.
and i wonder if maybe
we still could.
but it’s different now because
in this universe you let go and in this universe i wasn’t enough and in this universe i know who i’m missing and he’s exactly 32 minutes away if there’s no traffic.
and maybe in this universe we don’t end up together,
but maybe (this time) we’re not supposed to.