Between Bruises and Blooms

There is a version of my life

that almost happened.

It exists

somewhere between

packed boxes,

goodbyes,

and the highway

leading away from British Columbia.

I never told you,

but I almost stayed.

Not because I knew

what would happen.

Because I couldn’t stop wondering

what might.

I imagined

running into you

at a grocery store,

sharing coffee

that turned into dinner,

watching ordinary days

become something extraordinary

simply because

they were ours.

Instead,

I drove away.

Built another life.

Loved other people.

Lost pieces of myself.

Found them again.

And every so often,

when the night

was quiet enough,

I’d catch myself

asking the same impossible question.

What if I had stayed?

Years passed.

Enough years

that I convinced myself

the question

belonged to the past.

Then tonight,

you told me

you’d often thought

the same.

And suddenly,

that forgotten road

opened again.

Not because

I can change

where it led.

But because

for the first time,

I realized

I hadn’t been

walking it

alone.