What you said
still surfaces every now and then.
Not loudly.
Not enough to stop me in my tracks.
But quietly,
like a distant light on my horizon.
A green light.
One I’m reaching for,
working for,
wondering if I’ll ever arrive.
Wondering if we’ll arrive.
Because when you said,
“we’ll be together in the future,”
you left me with something
I never asked for:
possibility.
And somehow,
that possibility became part of me.
Not because I built my life around it.
Not because I sit and wait.
I don’t wait for you.
At least,
I’m not trying to.
I’m too busy building.
Working.
Learning.
Chasing goals that once felt impossible.
Walking toward a future
that finally feels like my own.
And yet sometimes,
I remember what you said.
And I wonder
if somewhere in the distance,
our footsteps are still learning
how to find each other.
Maybe that’s why gratitude
always finds its way back into my heart.
Because how lucky was I
to find you at all?
Thank you for changing my life.
Thank you for teaching me things
about myself
I may have never learned otherwise.
Thank you for the poems.
The memories.
The growth.
The parts of me
that only appeared
because I loved you.
You put my dreams into perspective.
You helped me realize
what I wanted from life.
Not by telling me where to go,
but by making me want
to become more.
And yes,
if I’m honest,
there is still hope.
Hope for a long walk
filled with love and admiration.
Hope for more poems.
More stories.
More life.
And if I’m honest,
a part of me still hopes
you’re there for it.
You’re the one
standing beside me
when I arrive.
Maybe you were right.
Maybe one day
our steps will align again.
Maybe one day
we will be together
in the future
you once spoke about.
Or maybe
it’s one of the many futures
still waiting for us.
But what a beautiful thing it was
to have walked beside you at all.
And what a beautiful thing it is
to keep walking,
carrying the light
of having known you.
Slow Burn Poetry 