In between the bittersweet
and the melancholic fevered dreams
there exists a Mountain View
a better me
and a nicer you
getting down on one knee.
I live in the liminality of ephemerality
that bridges the space between
what might have been
what could have been
and what will never be.
If you were me and I were you
I don't know what we would choose
The happy ever after
the war torn scorned saga of lovers who couldn't love each other
or a different tale completely
the gently worn pages of a lasting love
one that doesn't demand reciprocity
but basks in its mutuality.
If time is fleeting
and the chances of us meeting were slim to none I raise a glass to our other lives
and truly hope that some of them won.
