What if we waited?
Not out of fear,
but out of knowing
we deserved something whole?
What if time didn’t steal us,
but shaped us.
Filed down the sharp edges,
taught our hands how to hold
without breaking?
What if this time
your eyes didn’t carry hesitation,
and mine didn’t search for exits
in the middle of something good?
What if it was real?
Not just in late night promises
or fleeting warmth,
but in the quiet mornings
where nothing needs to be said
because everything already is?
What if it lasted?
Not as a question,
but as a truth we stood inside,
steady, unshaken,
no longer bracing for the fall?
What if we learned
to be enough on our own first.
To sit with our silence
and not feel empty,
to heal the parts of us
that once begged for saving?
What if we came back
not as two halves searching,
but as two people whole,
choosing each other
instead of needing to?
And maybe.
Just maybe.
Love wouldn’t feel like something
we’re trying to keep alive.
It would settle in,
like it was always meant to,
like it never planned to leave.