A metal bird crashed,
not alone, but with souls,
even the engines couldn't hold it,
as it fell too fast for last goodbyes.
And yet,
in a wreckage of hopes,
one breath remained in Seat 11A
not by strength, not by screams,
without even having to fight the sky.
Something science could not explain.
When I think of that seat,
I think of you,
the one who didn't walk into my life
with fanfare or a first-class ticket,
but somehow,
you sat in the seat that could have broken others.
In the cabin of my heart,
you sit in the safest place, 11A.
You didn't make it to number eleven,
you skipped the rankings and math.
Still, you didn’t make it to number one,
but a double one.
A proof
that love can survive any crash.