Every Version of Me Still Loves You

Dear Centauri,

If time really is layered—

if every choice split a version of us
into some parallel breath—

then I hope there’s a timeline
where you let yourself stay.

I hope there’s a version of me
who held your face and said it all
without fear.

I hope in that thread
we wake up laughing,
not aching.

I hope in every version—

even the ones where we’re strangers—

I still feel your name
like a truth I don’t need proof of.

Because love doesn’t need to survive the timeline.

It only needs to reach.

And I’m still reaching.

Always,

—Castor