Many Worlds Theory

There's a world in which we never meet,
Or maybe we pass each other on the street
And our eyes lock (or don't)
And we continue.
None the better
For it, none the worse.

There's a world in which you were never born,
And a world in which you are already dead.
You ran just a little faster and caught the train which crashed,
Caught it with a second to spare and a sigh of relief,
And somewhere I cried for you,
And somewhere else I didn't, because
I didn't know that there was
Anyone to cry for.

There's a world which is almost like this one,
All things are the same:
The drizzle and
The slight mist and
The smell of the corridor and
The stains on the ceiling and
The faint sound of classical music drifting from the radio in flat 1 where Miss Bell lives alone and
The shock
The shock of
The shock of your dark hair
Let loose against the bright red of your new winter coat.
All these things are the same in that world as in this but

But in that world you are not leaving.
You are coming home.

In that world you are walking towards me,
Smiling, shaking off the raindrops,

(You do not have to wish for these things or remember them, just know that somewhere
They are playing themselves out
Without us)

And in that world we are taking hands
(Smiling, shaking off the raindrops)
Your cheeks cold like the air outside
(Smiling, shaking off the raindrops)
In that world we two are
Shutting the door on all other worlds,
And curling on the sofa,
To revel in idleness.

Maybe we are drinking tea together,
And in that world
The warmth from the mug,
Seeping through the cup into my fingers,
Is just as real
Just as true as
This world ever was.

You are trying to pretend that you aren't crying.

'Goodbye.'
'Goodbye then, I... are you sure you're...?'
'Yes. I'll. Yes.. I'll.. well... goodbye...'