I meant to write a sonnet—
fourteen lines, a steady beat,
but then—
the rhyme slipped sideways,
and I lost count at twelve.
Or was it fifteen?
I almost compared you to something grand,
a lighthouse, a comet, a whisper before dawn—
but then—
the words wavered, teetering on the edge
of what they almost meant.
A metaphor tried to bloom,
rooted in meaning, reaching for truth—
but then—
it curled back into itself,
a question mark disguised as a sentence,
a sentence that wanted to be more
but settled for almost.
And maybe that’s enough.
---
I almost made a promise,
etched in ink, carved in stone—
but then—
the ink blurred, the stone cracked,
and suddenly, the words
didn’t sound like mine anymore.
I almost traced your name in the sand,
but the tide had other plans.
It smudged the letters,
half-drowned them in saltwater
before they could settle into permanence.
I almost said something beautiful,
something that would linger in your mind,
a phrase you’d turn over at midnight,
holding it in the hollow of your palm—
but then—
it unraveled, syllables dissolving like mist,
a thought unfinished,
a melody missing its final note.
I almost knew how this would end,
how to fold the moment into memory,
how to step away gracefully—
but then—
the ending never came.
---
I almost caught the dream—
held it lightly, let it breathe,
but then—
morning cracked open,
and it faded like a song
I couldn’t hum back into existence.
I almost followed the map,
but the lines blurred,
the compass spun wild,
north became maybe,
east whispered nowhere.
I almost saw your face in the crowd,
a half-second of recognition—
but then—
it was only a stranger
who almost looked like you,
almost smiled like you,
almost mattered for a moment
before vanishing into the blur.
I almost stayed.
Almost reached for your hand.
Almost said, Let’s try again.
But then—
I didn’t.
---
I almost wrote the perfect poem,
one that captured everything,
that held the weight of all the words
left unsaid, all the moments
we almost had.
I almost gave it an ending,
wrapped it in a final line,
but then—
I left it open.
#TheAlmostPoem #PoetryChallenge #NearMiss #UnfinishedBeauty #FleetingMoments #WhatCouldHaveBeen #UnspokenWords #LiteraryExperiment #Poetry
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