The very first time I remember you, you are blonde, and you don't love me back.

The next time you are a brunette, and you do.

After a while I give up trying to guess if the colour of your hair means anything,

because even when you don't exist, I'm still in love with you.

I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together,

when you share your secrets and hiding places with me,

I love how you play along with my bad ideas,

before you grow up and realize they're bad ideas.

(And in our times together I have many many bad ideas.)

When we meet as adults you're always much more discerning, I don't blame you.

Yet, always, you forgive me.

As if you understand what's going on, and you're making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn't exist,

and the ones where we just, barely, never meet.

I hate those, I prefer the ones in which you kill me.

But when all's said and done, I'd surrender to you in other ways.

Even though each time, I know I'll see you again, I always wonder

is this the last time?

Is that really you?

And what if you're perfectly happy without me?

Ah, but I don't blame you; I 'll never burn as brilliantly as you.

It's only fair that I should be the one to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes until I find the one wher you'll return to me.

This idea was inspired by an artist/writer called TONGARI, and one of their works.

Please enjoy! c: