in another life
you would be more kind
and i would love myself more
and the only fights we have would be over what restaurant we go to that night.
for some reason, in this one, the pieces dont fit
you dont hear me
and i dont see you
and we are incapable of gluing jagged edges together
two stars doomed to string one another along throughout the galaxy
drawn and quartered closely behind the other, continuously sewing the limbs back together just to float by the other
one more time.
but
i’d like to believe
in another life
the stars will align just right
and north will point me right to you, and you to me
and no matter where we are in the universe
we would finally know
the way home.