The Melancholy of Maybe

Maybe you couldn't stop the downpour for me... maybe the umbrella was never big enough for the two of us, so you let go of the umbrella and together we walked in the rain.

Maybe you couldn't always make me smile whenever I was sad, and maybe sometimes you didn't really understand me, but you stayed by my side and provided me the warmth and silence that spoke loudly enough to be the only comfort I needed.

Maybe you never really knew how I liked my coffee...maybe you couldn't relate to my love for books, but you quenched my thirst and let me get drunk on your love, you let me read all the things you hid in between the folds of your heart that cannot be expressed by simple words which had never been seen by anyone.

Maybe you couldn't take me to all the places we wanted to go...maybe you couldn't grant my every wish, but you left yourself open to me...you let yourself be a place I'm always welcome to no matter how much damage I bring you. You were my home and that was more than I could wish for.

Maybe you couldn't dance and sang off key...maybe you weren't good at drawing nor love painting. But you perfectly knew the steps of my heart. You heard and memorized every rise and fall of my melody no matter how broken it sounded and you held the paintbrush to vividly add color to my blacks, whites and dull greys.

Maybe you weren't always gentle. But your roughness was a storm and you always let me sit in its eye, never letting me feel its wrath.

Maybe you were flawed and imperfect... maybe you weren't what I thought I needed.

Because the truth is, there is no maybe in how blind I was. There is no maybe in how much I love you. There is no maybe in the ocean-deep and endless regret that I feel.

And maybe I can't have you back anymore at all.

You, my metaphorical umbrella, my warmth, my miles of silence and comfort, my favorite coffee and favorite book, my home and my every dream, the keeper of the steps and song of my heart, the color to my world, the storm that always kept me safe in despite of its wrath, my every single 'maybe' that I love...

and the holder of every single piece of 'me'.

Maybe if I had the chance to undo everything you did... I wouldn't...

I would not want them any other way...

And maybe, just maybe... I'd want to do it all again, just the way you did it but only this time, I wouldn't end up with all these 'Maybe's' and i wouldn't know the feeling of losing you.

...

A/N: Thank you for reading it until the end. Sorry for the grammatical errors, thank you for the wonderful comments and the critics too. :)