“We Were Almost Forever”
by The PastLife
We met in a season that didn’t know how to stay—
half-winter, half-spring,
like we were already torn between
holding on and walking away.
Your laughter felt like home,
a melody I knew before I heard it.
Your eyes—constellations
pulling me into galaxies I didn’t believe I deserved.
And I…
I gave you the parts of me I’d hidden for years,
not because you asked,
but because somehow, you understood their silence.
We were not perfect—
we never tried to be.
We argued like fire and water,
but kissed like the world was ending tomorrow.
You held my hand like it was the last life raft,
and I held your secrets like they were sacred.
Together, we stitched hope into days
that never promised us forever.
But life has a cruel kindness, doesn’t it?
It lets you taste everything
just enough to know what you’ll miss
when it’s gone.
We didn’t break.
We unraveled—
quietly,
like threads slipping from an old scarf in the wind.
No dramatic ending.
No final scream.
Just one less “good morning,”
then two people waking up as strangers.
And now—
I remember you in the spaces you used to fill:
the coffee mug I no longer use,
the song I skip on purpose,
the scent of rain that still makes me turn around.
I don’t hate you.
I never will.
You were the chapter that taught me
how love can be both the fire and the scar.
And maybe that’s what makes this beautiful—
not the way we loved,
but the way we lost each other
without turning love into war.
So here’s to us—
to the memory of almost,
to the ache that proves we once mattered,
to the soft goodbye
that still echoes in my quietest hours.
We were almost forever.
And sometimes…
almost is enough
to change someone completely.