In Every Life

We used to promise each other
“in every life.”

Like love was something gentle,
like the universe would be kind enough
to let us find each other again and again.

We said it like a prayer.
Like a wish.
Like forever was something we could afford.

But now I think about it differently.

Because if there are other lives,
if souls really do circle back
through time, through bodies, through worlds,

I hope
I’m not that unlucky.

I hope I don’t meet you again
with the same soft heart,
the same blind hope,
the same hands reaching for yours
like they belong there.

I hope in some other life
I pass you on the street
and feel nothing.

No recognition.
No gravity pulling me closer.
No quiet voice whispering
“there you are.”

Because loving you once
has already felt like
loving you
in every life.

And suffering through all of them
at the same time.