If I Saw You Again

If I saw you again,

the world would tilt,

just slightly,

enough to make me forget

how heavy it once felt

to love you.

I’d feel that pull—

the same gravity

that kept me orbiting you,

even when it burned.

Would you stop and stare,

your expression a mirror of mine—

shocked, unsure,

tinged with the flicker of something

we could never name?

Or would you walk past,

leaving me to wonder

if your heart raced

the way mine always does for you?

Even now,

after all the storms we created,

I know I’d still be drawn to you.

It’s absurd, isn’t it?

How I could still crave the fire

that scorched me.

How I could miss the chaos

that unraveled me

and call it love.

I can see it already—

how my body would betray me,

how the thought of your touch,

your voice,

would ignite every nerve

as if no time had passed.

Even knowing what I know,

even remembering every reason

we broke each other,

I’d still feel the ache of wanting you.

Would you feel it too—

that magnetic pull,

the invisible thread

that tied us together,

even when we were so wrong?

Would you see me as I see you,

as something broken

but still impossibly beautiful?

Would we speak?

Would we laugh nervously,

our words stumbling over the wreckage

we left behind?

Or would we stand in silence,

too afraid to open the door

we worked so hard to close?

And then the thought—

would I even have the willpower

to stop myself?

To hold my ground

when every fiber of my being

would scream

to run to you,

to fall into your arms

and pretend,

just for a moment,

that we were anything

but a beautiful disaster?

Or would I let go,

remind myself that love

shouldn’t taste like poison,

and watch you fade into the crowd,

carrying a piece of me

that leaves an endless ache in my soul?

~RMC