"Meet me in another life. Youโre my right person, wrong time in this one.โ"
What a cowardly excuse to hide behind. "Wrong time" as if time itself betrayed us, or as if fate looked down and decided against us. As though you had no say, no choice, and no voice. There was no tragedy keeping us apart, no war to fight, no ancient curse. It was just love, plain and simple, asking to be chosen. You looked right at it, you looked right at me, and yet you chose the exit.
Then you tossed me a promise of another lifetime like a spare coin. "โMeet me there,โ" you said, "โlove me when the world is kinder and I am braver.โ" But what am I supposed to do with this current life where I actually found you? What do I do with all this love now that you've dismissed it as bad timing? You speak of eternity like it owes you another chance just because you threw away the first one. I don't need you in some future century; I need you in this one, while my name is still familiar on your lips. I need you to choose me when it actually costs you something before losing me becomes just a romanticized memory for you to mourn.
So don't stand among the wreckage and blame the circumstances. Don't point toward the sky with the same hand that let go of mine. Don't pretend we were almost something sacred, because we "were" and you still walked away.