I miss you.
Or maybe,
I miss the thought of you.
The thought of us,
And what we could have been.
The thought of the way tiny feet would sound,
Across the hardwood floors of the farm house,
We planned to live in,
Outside the too small town that I’d never consider without you.
I spend a lot of time wondering.
Wondering what our babies would have looked like.
If they’d have your blue eyes,
And my red hair.
Wondering what it would have been like to watch you get old,
Or what it’d be like to reminisce about the chaos that led us to growing old together.
Wondering what happened,
What went wrong,
Why I wasn’t good enough,
Why you chose her.
Why I had to say goodbye,
To real dreams of hearts that never beat,
Babies that never existed,
And a love that was never true,
Even though it could have been.
We could have been.
