Last Night

September 11, 2025

Last night ended differently

than I ever could have planned.

An unexpected text

led to an unexpected evening

with a soul I've known for lifetimes.

You see,

some connections

don’t play by ordinary rules.

They bend time,

burn maps,

and still find a way back

when you least expect it.

There are people

who feel like déjà vu—

like I've known them

long before this lifetime,

and maybe I have.

Two wounded souls

burning bright.

Crossing paths through time—

crashing, disappearing, returning.

A remix,

never quite the same track twice.

And then one night,

we meet again—

not as who we were,

but as who we've become.

This time,

there is no crashing,

no burning,

no disappearing.

Just breath,

just presence,

just divine intimacy

that asks for nothing

but to simply be.

Something ancient hums between us,

as if the universe itself leans closer—

and it feels like the angels are watching,

knowing where we’ve been,

knowing where we’re headed,

and smiling because they already

know the whole story.

Ten minutes stretch into forever

inside a single hug.

Not lust.

Not fantasy.

Just presence—

and true intimacy,

the kind people crave

but rarely know how

to give or receive.

Because there are no explanations here.

No definitions.

No neat little boxes.

Just two people,

finally steady enough

to stand inside the fire

without getting burned.

And maybe,

that’s the real miracle—

to arrive here,

after everything,

and simply know:

"I see you."

"I know you."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

But also —"It’s not yet our time."

More lessons to learn,

more becoming still,

before the universe

pulls the thread

and we reconverge.

We smile,

half breaking,

half whole,

and whisper softly

to each other,

"Damn you."

And we part ways.