we talk about the time - about all the different lifetimes we've lived.
i think, (and i suppose this is not definitive, as i cannot remember the past ones) this is my favorite life so far.
in this one, i found you young, and i found you in spinning words and old prayers. whatever gods are pulling us round and round, they built us beautiful, darling. they gave you soft words and endless love and they gave me italian dreams and earthly worship. i think they are good gods, to have made us so beautiful. so real. carved of earth and marble and gold. and sometimes they slip dreams into our sleep.
last night i dreamt of you again. i was wearing golden hoops and war paint and you were wearing braids and the brightest smile. even in the dream, i could not breathe around you. we had wings made of fire and we were teaching the earth how to love, and i remember the way you brushed my hand and laughed. maybe it was a memory.
even when i was slipping into nightmares the feeling of your hand was still there. maybe i'm dreaming but i think i can feel it now, even while you sleep and dream the world.
in this life, we met young.
this morning i went to the beach and i carved words into the sand. i prayed and i prayed that the sea would pick up the words and bring them to you, and when i opened my eyes they were gone. so i thanked her, and i touched the waters and asked her if she would allow me to take some seashells for you. the next time a wave came in, five seashells washed up at my feet. they're on my nightstand now, and they still smell like the sea.
in this life, we are close.
i spoke to you on the train. i told you about the sun and the moon and the way they shone, and i sent you mediterranean dreams from the spinning mountains as i traveled. i don't think i remember much about barcelona except how i prayed at la sagrada familia and the way we spoke for hours every morning and night. i should have told you about the stray cats. i think you would have liked them.
in this life, you are different.
you know me well. you know that even though my heart is soft my blood is magma and i will fight to the end of days if it means survival. you know my trauma and you know the occasional silence it gave me, the cracks in my endless optimism. you know that your words make everything better. you know how much i love revenge.
in this life, i am praying.
i am praying for so many things. that we will grow old together in italian sunlight and sunflower fields, and that i am wearing golden hoops the day that i kiss you for the first time. that we speak every night and day about everything in the world because every time i talk to you i'm sure it could go on forever.
this life is blessed, love. we may not remember our old ones but i hope you know that i am always smiling at your words. that they set stars into my skin and my lashes.