There was a teddy bear in the shop window.
Not rare. Not extravagant. Just there.
Warmed by the way others looked at it,
like proximity made it more lovable.

I stood outside and rehearsed logic. Like I always do.
Look, don’t touch.
Want, but don’t reach.

It made sense.
Until it didn’t.

Because when I came back,
the shelf had straightened itself.
You were gone in a way that didn’t even hurt.
Just… corrected.

And I...

I would have held you. Not because you were perfect.
But because wanting you
was the first thing I couldn’t solve.

I'm still learning to rewrite the formula:
“I don’t deserve” might mean
I was too afraid to choose you while you were still real.