Love Is Not A Losing Game

Christopher Campbell
Christopher Campbell

Tell me again how we were made from the same stars; how your atoms will forever be tangled within my hair, my palms. Tell me about the constellations that bred you, the air that came together to breathe life into your glass bones, and how I am made from the same midnight sky, from the same white-hot light. For the love of anything we have ever been, tell me again how energy cannot be destroyed, only transformed, as to ease my mind, ease my heart, into believing that we exist within some foreign breeze, that our elements are slow dancing right now in Tokyo or Spain, that we made it to all of the places we said we would. Tell me again, how our depths made love, somewhere in a technicolour sunset, long before our bodies ever did.

I will believe you. For I know that our limbs are made up of cells that regenerate every six weeks, I know that our foundations are new and yet we live in an old world, a world that has been gifted our love and our past selves a hundred times over during the span of our lives. I know that what we shared was absorbed into the Earth, that the way you kissed me is now the way the wind kisses the trees, that your anger and your wounds have been lapped up by the waters of the ocean, that the tears we shared when we said goodbye make up the drops of rain that fall on my soft skin with every summer storm.

You – I have not lost you, and you have not lost me. I am presented with you every single day of my life, I feel you with every worldly step I take, and that is what makes this beautiful. That is what helps me to accept. If energy cannot be demolished, then our love is out there, changing the lives of someone else, changing the heart of a non believer, rejoicing within the first embrace of a couple that never thought they would find each other. In that, we live on, we thrive. In that – we have survived. TC mark

Read more of Bianca Sparacino’s writing in her new book Seeds Planted in Concrete here.

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