There is so much left to the imagination with the word almost.
Such lightness, and a gravity that rips us from our high.
You were my almost.
My whole body feels the fact that we were nearly something, sensing the warmth of someone’s hand, but never holding it.
My mind mourns our near collision, wondering if the scenarios in my head ever could have happened, or if it is just another side-effect of our almost.
Our close enough gave me hope, is that right?
You were my almost.
My mind is consumed with the fact that you most certainly are no longer here, I return to the places where love almost grew and find them sad to see, almost forgotten.
All I saw was potential when you almost loved me, and now I wonder if instead I should feel that gravity, to miss something that could have been.
It almost makes me think we shouldn’t have been, all for that wonder to cease.
Almost.
A Series of Observations 