How can you miss something that never was?
You can miss the idea of it: the intense limitless emotions and the pure bliss of what it could have been; the vague picture in your head that feels intensely real, almost like an oil painting that's a few strokes away from being finished.
And when you close your eyes, you can almost feel it, almost touching the happiness it exudes. Because it's solid and whole and real to you.
You catch yourself smiling, because despite the fact that you've missed it this time, maybe in another one of the infinite realities that exist in the universe: it exists too.
You're immensely grateful for the you in that reality: she can never come to realise how lucky she got, because she probably will never know what's it like to miss the idea of a probability this intensely.
YOU ARE READING
Unfinished Paintings
PoetryA collection of my prose, poetry and epiphanies over the past couple of years. I've always loved writing and composing, but I'd never assumed anything I wrote was worth being read by anyone but myself. Writing has always been a way for my mind to co...
