To What Was and What Will Be
Acceptance and Hope ( Poems )
Love always leaves something behind—an ache that never quite fades or a warmth that lingers like an old song. We hold onto the weight of past goodbyes while reaching, quietly, for the next hello.
One heart still looking back. Another already searching ahead.
Fifteen Minutes to Three
It’s fifteen minutes now to three
By then, you’d be by the gate waiting for me
Leaning on your 2007 white Montero
Where we’d kiss and fog up the window
We were like thieves of the night,
Driving around, chasing the break of light—
Young, mindless, careless, but free,
So naive to think that life is all glee.
We said goodbye in your 2023 red Innova
We shared tears, knowing this was now over
And if years from now, we’ll meet again
I hope we find friendship at what remains.
Ode to My Future Lover
Ode to my future lover,
or the one I have yet to name.
I think of you in moments of stillness,
a story that stirs in the night,
then lingers softly at first light.
Sometimes, in quiet, I feel the weight
of wondering where you could be.
Are you someone I knew, or yet to know?
Have our shoulders brushed in a coffee queue?
Did we share a glance at the bookstore?
Were you the stranger I glared at on the street?
Or the one who never fails to like my tweets?
I smile at these thoughts, at my own foolish hope—
or maybe you’re waiting just the same,
lingering in aisles, caught in the same reverie,
wandering through crowds, searching for me.
And maybe one day, I’ll finally see you.
We’ll share a look; you’ll invite me for coffee,
only to confess—you prefer tea.
We’ll laugh, unguarded, no longer alarmed,
letting warmth replace the wondering.
I could go on and on with these imagined days,
the life we might so easily share.
But maybe it’s enough that you live in my poetry—
until time is right, and you find your way to me.
Author's Note
Love never arrives whole—it comes in pieces. What was, what could have been, what might still be. These poems carry both the weight of goodbye and the quiet pull of what’s yet to come. One is a farewell to something that once felt endless, the other a soft reaching toward the unknown.
Writing these, I felt the heaviness of memory and the hush of hope. If you’ve ever had to let go—or are still waiting for someone to find you—I hope these words feel a little like home.
© 2025 Annieguile Bentulan/Through Words Be Guiled. All rights reserved.
Beautiful poems. I could feel the emotions through your words