I still think of you
when the day slows down.
Not out of longing,
but because some people
leave marks
even when they pass by too quickly.
You were never mine,
but for a moment
it seemed you were.
And maybe that's
what still weighs on me:
not what we had,
but what almost happened.
I follow my path,
even knowing
that certain memories
find shortcuts
to return on their own.
It doesn't hurt —
it just touches me,
like someone silently saying
that they were once a part of me
without ever truly staying.
You were never mine,
but you left a space
where an “us” that never existed would fit.