I wish wanting you were enough.

Enough to quiet the distance,
enough to soften the timing,
enough to make all the wrong pieces
somehow fit.

But some people arrive
and feel like almost everything
you’ve been waiting for—

and still, somehow,
they are not yours to keep.

So I carry the ache quietly,
loving what is,
grieving what could be,
and trying not to reach
for a life that was never mine.