Better

Sometimes I wonder where we might be.

If our paths never crossed.

If I never met you,

and you never met me. 

If such hidden worlds existed, 

they’d feel like a strangers Christmas. 

Peering from outside a window,

into a home where I once belonged. 

How could I bear to look

when it hurts to even wonder?

Where both fear and hope collide. 

Hidden world or not.

I’m still the familiar stranger,

peering inside another window

of someone else’s home. 

Sometimes I wonder where you might be.

If our paths never crossed.

And you never met me.