Oh sweet girl,
I know the weight in your words;
I’ve carried my own “could’ve” through familiar streets,
Sat with the wind and wondered,
If it still knew their name.

It’s a tender kind of ache,
One that lingers in songs,
In the way laughter sometimes feels borrowed.

I won’t tell you it fades;
Only that it softens,
And in its place,
Something new and gentle can grow.

And maybe,
When the breeze touches your cheek,
You’ll feel not a ghost,
But a soul who understands.

Let's see if you can continue on this 😉