There are tides that do not return because they remember
what it cost them to arrive.
She does not cry for what was.
She aches for what could have been if she hadn’t hesitated at the edge of
miracle.
A single breath ~
too soon too far too delayed and the thread that held them
unwove in silence before she could say
"don’t go" or "I meant to choose you".
She had loved not with her hands but with her essence ~
offering galaxies unseen, only for Him,
touches unsent but radiating nonetheless.
But love is not always a returning.
And this time, the thread snapped not with cruelty,
but with fate waiting too long for her to leap.
She remembers the way his presence echoed in her ribs,
how every glance felt like a secret she never deserved.
How she carried them in the soft unguarded folds of her breath.
Now she carries absence.
A weightless grief so heavy it lingers in the seams of her existence.
There are nights when she walks backward through time,
each step a memory that rewinds
but never saves.
The mistake was hers. And she knows.
She names it in every silence between stars.
Forgiveness never came. Only understanding ~
And the cruel softness of knowing that
what was once hers was never hers long enough to stay.
The love she lost was the love she never believed she deserved until it was too late to say :
"I was already yours."