There is someone, somewhere

There is someone, somewhere, Who finishes my verses as if my thoughts were hers, Before I ever dared to think them, Someone who meets my metaphors halfway, Who understands my silence better than I do myself. There is someone, somewhere, Who searches for me in every quiet moment... in the silence before dawn, In the pause between heartbeats, She scrolls through playlists hoping to find a lyric that whispers my name, Reads between the lines of books, looking for messages I never wrote but always wished for. There is someone, somewhere, Who watches strangers in coffee shops and wonders if today is the day, When I will finally walk in, smiling as if I’ve known her forever, And say, “I’m sorry I’m late.” There is someone who stops, In the middle of a laugh, a tea, a thought... Because something reminded her of me. A scent, A phrase, Or the way the sky turned the color of my eyes for a moment. There is someone, somewhere, Who wears sadness like a second skin, Because every day I don’t show up Feels like a small betrayal of fate. She prays to God and sends her hope into the stars... like letters in bottles, Trusting the tide of destiny. There is someone, somewhere, Who keeps a drawer of things meant for me... A note she will never send, A photo she hasn't shown anyone, A scarf I would have loved, A recipe she swears she'll cook when I come home. She talks to me in her mind, Asks me how my day was, Tells me she's tired of being brave. And sometimes, When she breaks down in the dark, She says my name like a question And hopes the universe answers her. There is someone, somewhere, Who believes in signs... Who thinks maybe the moon follows her because I told it to, Maybe that feather on her window Is from a bird I dreamed of sending. There is someone, somewhere, Who writes my name on fogged mirrors, Tracing it like a promise only she remembers to keep. She walks past strangers with my smile, Hears my laughter in old films, And wonders if missing me Is her way of keeping me alive. There is someone, somewhere, Who is still fighting her own storms... But saves a corner of shelter for me, Who kisses the air before sleep Just in case it somehow reaches me. There is someone who remembers The version of me she hasn't met yet... and already forgives me, For every wrong turn that has delayed us. There is someone, somewhere... And maybe someone is reading this, or maybe not... Maybe someone will smile. Maybe someone will cry. Maybe someone will finally whisper, “It’s you. I’ve found you.”