We love like words love a book.
Our passion a plot, intricately devised,
pages turned with urgency.
Margins sculpted with scribbled dreams.
Each chapter
a new beginning;
desires traced in inky fire.
We love like the sun loves the horizon,
chasing the dusk with fervour,
as if the earth might crumble into night,
as if we needed to capture the last ray;
to warm ourselves for darker days.
We love with the urgency of a comet,
a trail of brilliance against the vast black,
daring the universe to forget all -
while our hearts pound,
hoping the other feels the same way;
in the quiet chaos of unspoken words.
We love with the vividness of art,
like time itself were crumbling apart.
Fragments of conversations
bold brushes against the mundane
strokes of belonging and release;
we dive headlong into love.
And in that love: we find,
a thousand lifetimes – folded within pages,
where the ending was but a pause,
a moment to gather breath,
until we find our way back to each other. Again