in existence,
our love the veins
that keep the heart
of the knot
going without end,
tangled forever.
a cyclical spiral,
living in theory,
two persistent god particles,
tomorrow is ours, too,
just as yesterland
still lives after
bridges collapse.
return, we will,
in sudden feelings,
from behind a bar,
in front of a bookstore,
on a bench,
good in bed,
bad at belonging in one world.
it happens again,
and again, again,
and again, never
stopping forever;
the same life
multiplied by love,
continued as infinite.
we remain as a seamless dream,
which begs both to wonder
if we exist at all
in the first place,
or the one millionth mistake
made to create us again,
so I'll see you in the next life, love.