You are the center of the earth, and I am a fallen tree
Maybe in another life you are the supernova and I am your Tycho Brahe. A witness to your stunning presence up there in the clear night sky, the one who writes down your possible name because I am the first one seeing you around through my naked eyes and the old telescope inside the observatory. The astronomer and her ultimate love. A pencil and The Diagram of Copernicus System scattered on the floor. I will have your name glued onto mine until my last day on earth, as I will love you until they cannot remember me as someone who has invented one of the greatest findings in human history. I love you even before you talk to me. I love you even before you were you.
It is possible too that in another life I am a florist and you are a fine-looking man who always spares a minute or two for a visit. I will tell you about flowers you may want to buy; peonies, roses, baby’s breaths, asters, lilies. Forget-me-nots. I will have to ask you about the occasion, hoping it won’t be about someone else because deep inside I want to keep you here on my own. And every time you are about to ask me about my first choice for you to buy, it will always be the forget-me-nots. Not only the flowers, but also the message: I hope you will never forget me as I will always remember you. I want you to remember the good and the bad of me — but please, do not forget me.
Another life, you are my childhood sweetheart: Sun-kissed skin, auburn hair ablaze under the scorching summer sun. I am the girl next door; old Walkman, vintage dresses, and a bar of chocolate every Valentine’s day. In summer we make ourselves renegades by going on an undisclosed trip to our secret lake; penniless, impulsive, but happy. We sit on the grass, sip our diet soda, then proceed to talk about future that probably doesn’t exist. Then I ask you for a kiss, and you immediately grant me one before I finish my sentence. Parents will be looking for us, but they will understand after three or four happenings. Young love, they say. But our love is not young — it is eternal.
You see, you are the center of the earth and I am a fallen tree. You hold gravity in you and I just keep on falling — wherever the universe takes place, whenever the clock is ticking. I’ll love you in every universe, you say, and I will reply, You and I are perfect for each other — never believe anything else. In our universe, madness is just a tale. In every of our universe, only happiness exists. You are my multiverse of happiness. When there’s you, there’s bliss.
