Is life ironic or tragic?
Some moments slip through hands like magic.
You are a different person to everyone you meet—
To some, a comfort; to some, deceit.
You are a villain in someone’s story and a hero in another’s.
For most, you’re just a passing thought,
A spark in the dark they soon forgot.
A name?
Perhaps, countless versions of yourself,
Like books unread on a dusty shelf.
I met you when I wasn’t looking for you,
Like the moonlight in a sky I never knew.
I lost you when I loved you most,
Your memory now a haunting ghost.
Life leaves you with memories and lessons you never asked for,
Like waves that crash but never reach the shore.
The depth of your love today can be the depth of your wound tomorrow,
Joy borrowed, repaid in sorrow.
But still, we love—with reckless grace,
Hoping to eventually end up in the same place.
POETRY 