Even Better Things Don’t Feel Like You.
It’s only April, except it’s not only April. I don’t know how long I’d keep mourning the idea of what we could have been. I’ve not been the same since last summer. Nothing has felt the same. “Same,” I mean, nothing has felt like you. Even better things, don’t feel like you, like us. I don’t know how many seasons I’d keep packing for a journey we’d never take. How many mornings I’d smile, because I imagined the version of you that would have been perfect for me. I’ve written you into poems, because my poems are pieces of me, makes me feel like you’re still a part of me. It’s funny, we never stood a chance. Still, I have all these “what ifs”. They say you were not good for me. To be fair, I agree. But beneath everything, I always wanted it to be you. Maybe it could still be you. Maybe it would just take another universe, and a timeline kinder than this one. ~Hadiqah.O I wrote this poem on the 14th of April. Right now, I’m going throu...