To the one that got away,
Everyone knows our story. A story of how two people met just to part ways. The usual, the out of the plan, the undestined. It’s a bittersweet feeling yet I have to give in to the pain, the poison, the defeat. I was never ready but I was so sure.
He was the one. The greatest, but the almost. And our almost remained an almost for a reason.
The falseness of everything was surreal. So good that I thought it was true. It was wonderful, everything was. I thought I knew where we’re heading. I prepared myself for the loss. For the void, the void I thought no one can ever fill in when he leaves. I knew it has to hurt. It has to.
Words are too good but it’s deceiving. It will trap you into an illusion that you will never foresee. You will never imagine, you will not see coming.
The void is a myth, an elusive excuse. A defense you would like to believe in. I sure did. Maybe it remained an almost for a little twist.
Years from now I’ll get to tell a story that I know will never be like ordinary.
It would be about the biggest plot twist that would sting. It will no longer be about me and of someone I gave all the roses I planted.
But to the one who actually watered those roses for me, with me, and was beside me along the way, but I barely recognized. And when I finally saw him, everything ended there. The last thing I saw was him slowly walking away. He still got away. The one, supposedly the one, but I thought was just a friend.
The one that got away was not actually the one who left. He was there all the time but I never kept an eye. The one that I pushed away. My could’ve been, should’ve been but never was and never will be.