I Need To Know That Given A Second Chance, You Would Still Choose Me

I know I shouldn’t think about it, but I can’t help but wonder…

Did you see your forever with her?

Did she make you want to try more? Did she make you want to text her good morning and good night, every single day? Did she make you want to text her just because? Because you couldn’t stop your heart from connecting with hers even for a few hours?

Did you want to dress up and take her out for fancy candle-lit dinners, instead of happy hour drinks in the bar? Did you want to grasp her hand with yours, and show her off to the world? Did you want to tell everyone you met along the way, that you had the most incredible girlfriend, and that you felt like the luckiest guy on the planet mostly because of her? Is there a reason why you sometimes hesitate to tell people about me at all?

Did you listen to her? I mean, really listen to hear? Did you hang off her every word, drink it all in, and wait, eager for more, because no matter how much she gave you, you were endlessly hungry for more and more and more? Did you remember the smallest of details that she gave you? Is there a reason why you don’t remember the ones I give you…

If she created something, anything, would you have been intrigued enough to want to read her words? To hear her stories? To feel her heartbeats on a page? Because you’d have to hold me back from enveloping yours completely. And I can’t for the life of me figure out why you don’t want to read mine. If I matter, my art should matter to you.

Were you excited for her to meet your family and best friends; all of the other people you love dearly? Hoping that she would love them, and that they would love her too?

Did she love you better than I can? Did she love you loudly? Because while I know my love is not any less, it is quiet, I know. Did she make you feel needed and relied on, in a way that I can’t? Did her fingers find their way to yours more than mine do? Did she hold you tighter? Did her kisses somehow feel sweeter? Are your lips still craving her sugar?

Were you madly in love with her? Did that kind of love scare you at first?

Because it felt like magic, and you are not someone who believes in magic. Did it terrify you because you’d never felt anything remotely like it in your entire life? But you grew to like it, to want it, and to need it. Can you even imagine experiencing the same level of adoration again one day?

Did she steal your heart, then break it, and keep your scattered shards? Are you still looking for those old pieces to mend it back together again? Are you looking for me to give you those pieces? Because if you are, it pains me to tell you that I can’t give them to you.

Those pieces are gone forever. But I can give you new pieces.

Did you think there would never be another after her? That no one could possibly compare? Did you not want there to be another her? Did the simple thought of someone else make you nauseous? My history was pretty much a blank canvas when you met me. But yours was a painting very much in progress, and could’ve maybe ended up a masterpiece. And I’d like to tell you that doesn’t worry me, but the truth is, it worries me quite a lot.

Are you looking for that relationship again? Are you looking for a girl to fill her shoes? Because I need to tell you that me & you will be nothing like the us you used to have. I don’t know her, but I know that I am nothing like her; because the truth is I’m not much like anyone I’ve ever met. I will always wear my own shoes.

If fate were to have you meet again, would your heart start skipping, and would it signal hers? Was it merely distance and timing that forced you apart? Do you ever wonder what if things were different for the both of you? Do you think you’d still be together? Do you think about it? Because I do.

I know I shouldn’t think about it, but, if things were different, if you had the choice again, would you still choose me?

Did you have to pause and think about that just then? Because if you did, even for a moment, then I already have your answer.