In Another Life

IN ANOTHER LIFE, we would’ve met early. Or perhaps, later.

IN ANOTHER LIFE, we wouldn’t have doubted or debated or delayed love.

IN ANOTHER LIFE, you wouldn’t have gone so far away, three quarters of my heart neatly tucked in your luggage.

IN ANOTHER LIFE, I could’ve stopped you or better, come with you and never look back.

IN ANOTHER LIFE,  I wouldn’t spend my nights and days clutching my phone to my heart waiting for you to call, mail, message or ping.

IN ANOTHER LIFE, you wouldn’t be replying to my ten letters with a single one.

IN ANOTHER LIFE, we could’ve manufactured time for each other.

IN ANOTHER LIFE, I could’ve visited you in summer without my parents’ resistance and you would’ve waited, with your breath bated, for me at the airport.

IN ANOTHER LIFE, I would’ve climbed over the Empire State Building and declared my love to you as loudly and publicly as I could because our love wouldn’t have to survive in secrecy and fear then.

IN ANOTHER LIFE, you wouldn’t be afraid of standing up to my father and asking for my hand.

IN ANOTHER LIFE, we would be happy together.

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