This year could have been so much more.
It could have been the year we:
Acquired a home
in the middle of a
quaint English town
Baked cakes and cookies
(chocolate and lemon, ofc)
in the kitchen of said house
Celebrated anniversaries,
birthdays and Christmas,
in said house
Danced under
our made-up version
of the northern lights
Eaten a Sunday roast with gravy
every third day of the week
just because we can
Fought over which
of our travel photos
to put up on the walls
Gotten married
like people our age
are "supposed to do"
Harvested sunflowers;
probably too early
knowing us
Imagined what our lives
could/should look like
5 years from now
Jammed to a folk rock band
in a ram-packed arena
in London's Zone 2
Kissed as the crowd
roared and yearned
for an encore
Laughed out loud because
we may have consumed
too much alcohol
Made love
in each and every room
of aforementioned house
Nicknamed our neighbour's dog
"Casanova" for reasons only
you and I are aware of
Overcooked roast potatoes
then blamed our new oven
for its inexperience
Packed two backpacks;
my clothes neatly folded
yours shoved in
Queued at airport security;
one hand holding a passport
the other entwined in yours
Rested our heads for the night
at a cheap motel with
a vintage neon sign
Stopped for savoury pancakes
at a refurbished gas station
on Route 66
Took a photo of us for our walls
in front of General Sherman
84m above ground
Undressed then skinny-dipped
in the fresh waters of Lake Tahoe
with the sun setting in the background
Vowed to never become too afraid,
too despondent, too old, too tired,
to live
Whispered "You see, I told you so"
as Marley's Three Little Birds
played on the car radio
We could have also done
X, Y and Z
but we've done none of that.
We could have been so much more.
You, me, all of us. So much more.
We could've been infinite.
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