Do you think time travellers appreciate the most minuscule details untouchable
by changes?
Or does the constant variables frustrate and consume them as they dream
in daydreams and sleepless night
of what could have been, what might have not been?
They are all wrong.
I've never and never will regret loving you.
I'm not running anymore now.
Now, the tides are calmer unlike days where I was drowning neck-deep,
crying my heart out to sea
to the lights over the horizon of rippling waves,
of aloneness disguised as loneliness that wrenches every wound I've ever opened.
I fell in love with you twice.
As I opened that door to see you
washed in the dying lights of midnight sun.
You
were my untouchable happenstances.
I was barely surviving with all of the heaviness of love I was concealing
behind my back,
careful not to let you know
and then, you looked at me
with the most
mellowed,
softest stare
of
glass, filled
to the brim with understanding.
Any of the time travellers could twist that night and
tug at all the different strings of how I could have ended up seeing you in
a different light
but I will still find ways to love you in any and all of the parallel universes
that we simultaneously exist in.
Again and again and again and again and again and again.
You know how it felt? Falling in love like this?
To me, it felt like everything else in this
cruel world could crumble to the ground at that very moment
but as long as you'd look at me, right through me, like that,
I wouldn't even notice anything else.
