"When the Stars Remember Us"

Does it ever feel effortless to you,

the way you break the silence—

not with noise,

but with a sentence so precise

that it rearranges the air between us?

Like when you lean closer and say,

"I waited lifetimes for this moment—

to trace the constellations in your eyes,

to remember who I am in your embrace."

Does it come naturally to you

to speak to me in the language of my blood,

to soften wounds I never voiced,

to turn my history into something sacred,

so that even my ancestors

would smile in recognition?

And perhaps you don’t notice—

but each time we collide,

I am remade.

Five times in five months,

ashes and flame,

death and rebirth—

your love is both the fire

and the resurrection.

Tell me,

was it here,

or in some forgotten corner of the cosmos,

where we clinked celestial glasses and vowed:

"Next time, let’s find each other sooner.

Next time, let’s stay."