Writing

Past Lives

Past Lives

Now when I think of love
I can’t help but think of past lives.

My spirit feels so much older than my body,
and I can’t help but wonder—
maybe if I could find
one of my loves
from those unknown years,
we could have a real shot.

I think about the last boy who I let into my heart.
Knowing we might meet again,
I can let go a little bit easier
because maybe this was just meant to start things,
and he’s not the love for right now
maybe we need a hundred more years
to fit together right and maybe there’s
someone out there who
I’ve been putting work into
for millenniums—

my Right Now

and maybe
I just haven’t met him yet.

It makes it feel so much easier
to think those six months were
nothing
compared to the work I’ve put in
that I don’t even remember.

It makes me feel calm
to think that even my failed loves
I’ll meet again in the future
with $30 in my pocket
or my nails painted sea foam green
with no memory of the hurt
of feeling small
or inadequate,
only a blank slate left
still pulsing with the unnamable energy
of two souls
meant to be.

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