What if we had met a little later? What if we had been a little older?
And you had a little more time to find yourself,
to make sure there was nobody better for you than me?
What if we had met a little later and you weren't so worried about settling down? You weren't so firm in your need to have options?
I wouldn't have been a Jenga block being pulled from your tower during a game that was only half done, when you were still stable enough to pull a few more before you crumbled.
What if I met you when you were ready to be built back up for good?
What if we'd met a little later when so much time had passed you felt like you were running out of it so you stopped running and took a seat at the nearest bench to catch your breath and just never got up again?
And that bench, oh that bench, would become the luckiest in the world because you chose it as your last stop.
And it would happily sit with you while you wind down and pass time and it would go nowhere and do nothing but support every fiber of you even though a part of you would always want to keep on running.
If we met a little later, would you have been definite in your feelings for me?
Because I could have met you anywhere, sooner or later, in this life or another.
And I would have been sure every time.