I made you into my art,

stripping away the surface,

seeing the rawness underneath.

I peeled away the skin

till I understood your rhythm,

your fire, your pain.

I could read your words

like reading your thoughts,

the place your heart trembled.

You became more than a memory,

more than a fleeting connection—

but something painted into my soul,

immortalized in metaphor and meaning.

We filled our empty spaces

with our very essence—

not just a shared moment

or fleeting thought,

but something that endures.

Forever lingering

on the pages that we wrote.

We dared to see

what no one else sees,

even when it caused us pain.

But the pain was nothing

compared to the loss.

Because before the loss

there was still hope,

still possibility—

one I still believe in.

One I fought for,

one that doesn’t leave

silhouettes of what could have been—

what could be worth it.

Because I still feel you in my bones.

I still feel you in my veins.

I still see you sleeping next to me.

I still bleed out

for the love and lust of you.

There’s a reason

it’s so hard to let the flame burn out between us

because we were meant to find each other.

Soulmates split in two halves,

just trying to find their way back home—

planting flowers

that still grow in each other's chest,

telling us to never let this go.

Because love like this

doesn’t just happen.

It’s once in a lifetime.

And we just so happened

to fall into it

at a strange time.

But there’s no denying

it’s impossible

Paradise Hotel Rooftop 8 October 2016, 10:00 PM

Two hours after she’d arrived, the party was still going strong and thus far no one had gotten into anymore trouble than one would expect from a typical party thrown by humans. Maria was beginning to relax, but had decided to remain sober just in case they were being lulled into some kind of false sense of security. 

She was still nursing the cocktail she’d picked up well over an hour ago as she sat in a lounge chair by the pool watching to couples engaged in an energetic game of chicken. The shrieking and splashing grew closer to her end of the pool and she vacated her seat in search of an a seat further outside the splash zone. At Magda’s insistence, she’d brought her swimsuit and there were plenty of changing areas, but the night was growing cooler and Maria had never intended to use the swimsuit tucked into the bottom of her purse. 

With no particular destination in mind, she wound her way through the crowd, her eyes scanning more out of habit than apprehension. If only she could have brought a proper camera; this would be such an interesting scene to photograph. Her cell phone would have to do, no purse appropriate for a cocktail type party would fit a true camera. She slid her finger across the bottom of her phone screen to unlock it and tapped the camera app, snapping several photos -- the dance floor, the pool, the bar, the DJ. People laughing, dancing, playing, enjoying their lives. She lowered the phone and glanced at the pictures, zooming in on a few that looked mildly promising until she found herself staring at the face of a woman who couldn’t possibly be there. Her head snapped up and she began scanning the crowd in earnest. There it was again, a flash of dark hair, and that red-lipped smile. 

How?

It wasn’t even a conscious decision that led her to push her way through the crowd until she was standing behind the woman she’d known nearly a century ago in the 1920s. It didn’t matter that her hair was different, her dress tighter, her heels higher, it was still her and she hadn’t aged a day. It was impossible and yet... Maybe she was remembering wrong (yeah, right) but she had to be sure.

“Carmen?”