Maybe in another life you will choose me. You’ll choose the tender long talks over the loud distractions. You’ll choose showing up instead of staying home Maybe you’ll sit beside me without needing a reason, and touch my hand like you mean to stay. Maybe in that life, you won’t flinch at softness. You won’t run from something real just because it asks for effort. Maybe you’ll look at me and finally see what I was offering you in this one. But I won’t be waiting. That version of me will be long gone. And you’ll miss her in every silence you once filled with someone else’s noise.