What If?
-Grisha Gautam
There’s a hollow ache in the chest, a phantom limb of the heart, for a life never lived. It’s a yearning for laughter shared in sun-dappled kitchens, the scent of freshly baked bread, the warmth of hands holding yours. For lazy afternoons spent building castles in the clouds, secrets whispered into the wind, and promises made under the watchful eyes of the moon.
I’ve never known the comfort of a steady heartbeat beside me, the rhythm of another’s breath in the quiet of night. No shared dreams, no stolen glances across crowded rooms. Just wonders of what could have been, a haunting reminder of what might have been.
It’s the taste of salt on the lips after a silent cry, the weight of an invisible world pressing down on the shoulders. A longing for a home that exists only in the mind’s eye, a hearth where laughter dances and love resides. A craving for the touch of a hand that will never be mine to hold.
And so, I wander through the twilight of existence, a ghost in the land of the living. Ran after by the what-ifs, the phantom ache of a love never known. A prisoner of longing, trapped in a world that offers no escape from this yearning.
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