A Wrong Timing

Loving her was not a mistake,

it wasn't something I lost.

It became something I carry,

not heavy, just... present.

It asks for nothing now,

and it no longer hurts the way it used to.

it only reminds me,

that once, she was here.

I still remember the way she called my name,

a soft whisper, almost like a spell.

We walked without destination,

laughing at things that would make no sense.

I understand now,

that she arrived, not to stay,

but to leave something within me.

There are quiet traces of her,

that never really left.

I gave my love in doses,

she feared it because at some point,

it became an overdose of affection,

something she thought might consume her.

She was never the wrong person,

perhaps the timing was.

For

Sanji-Paul Arvind

**Do not judge my life based on my poems; My Poems and my life are 2 different things.