In another life,
I’d reach for your hand without thinking.
In another life,
you’d already be holding mine.
We’d laugh too loud in grocery store aisles,
argue about which stars are brighter,
kiss under cheap string lights
like it was the first sunrise.
In another life,
timing wouldn’t matter.
I wouldn’t have to tuck my feelings
into half-smiles and quiet glances.
I’d tell you
without the fear of losing you.
Maybe we’d slow-dance
in your living room at 2 a.m.,
bare feet on the carpet,
your head on my shoulder,
and I’d think, finally.
But lately —
when you catch my gaze
and don’t look away,
when your smile lingers
a little longer than it should —
I start to wonder
if maybe you feel it too.
So I’ll be patient,
soft,
hopeful,
letting my heart whisper
what my lips can’t say —
that maybe,
just maybe,
this life
could be the one
where you love me back.
Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 8:10 PM UTC
In another life,
I’d reach for your hand without thinking.
In another life,
you’d already be holding mine.
We’d laugh too loud in grocery store aisles,
argue about which stars are brighter,
kiss under cheap string lights
like it was the first sunrise.
In another life,
timing wouldn’t matter.
I wouldn’t have to tuck my feelings
into half-smiles and quiet glances.
I’d tell you
without the fear of losing you.
Maybe we’d slow-dance
in your living room at 2 a.m.,
bare feet on the carpet,
your head on my shoulder,
and I’d think, finally.
But lately —
when you catch my gaze
and don’t look away,
when your smile lingers
a little longer than it should —
I start to wonder
if maybe you feel it too.
So I’ll be patient,
soft,
hopeful,
letting my heart whisper
what my lips can’t say —
that maybe,
just maybe,
this life
could be the one
where you love me back.
Timing changes everything. Or maybe it doesn't.
