It was April, you wore a white shirt that smelled like lily as you listened to the story of my past love. You just laughed and told me your opinions and all I could think about was how you read me like an open book.
But that one night when we were a little too close, and we sat in silence on the stairs outside your house. Your eyes sadly asked me to stop wasting my time, that you were contented and accepted the slow detour you made for your family. And I looked at my own hands holding onto nothing a little too tight.
Sometimes puzzle pieces get so frayed with time that when they are finally next to each other, they don't fit.
I know because even if love can overcome anything, it can't undo the past.
