If other lives were to exist, I find peace in believing that we exist too.

If other lives were to exist, I would like to imagine your body and mine between the sheets one morning, and the sound of birds entering alongside the light through the window, I would like to imagine your fingers tracing my face in a silent portrait, as silent as the moment, and as vivid as our souls.

If other lives were to exist, surely I would recognize your eyes, sometimes sad, but never ceasing to be alive, I would touch your hair, and hold your image close to my heart.

If other lives were to exist, we would be cleaning dishes together after dinner and laughing at how foolish we could have been to think of letting love slip away, the kind that seeps into your bones, the kind that now exists here, between your heart and mine.

If other lives were to exist, you would still read poetry in front the sea, and I would try to keep up your rhythm while we walked, we would eat between steps and museums, and we would create picnics before chasing the next bus that is already leaving us behind.

If other lives were to exist, we would laugh like little children and gaze at the stars more slowly.

If other lives were to exist, I would take your hand and tell you it’s okay to walk slowly, that I like it when we simply exist together.

If other lives were to exist, my love, I know we would be who we were.

There would be no time, we wouldn’t think of the next farewell, we wouldn’t count the minutes, there would be no untimely kisses, nor fleeting hugs.

If other lives were to exist,

Love, do you think there are other lives?

If only other lives existed, I wouldn’t be dreaming that in another life, we not only happened, but we could also have been.