When the last planet fades. When light is consumed by darkness, or darkness is emitted by light. When the last stars explode. When space is nothing but blackholes. When the supernovas of your eyes dim, when the orchestra of your voice wines down. When we stop reincarnating, when everything ends. That’s when I’ll get to love you at a new beginning. Fresh from the shackles of perceived pasts, I will love you anew. Or maybe when I stop carrying the weight of our history on my chest. I admit, I love you now but it, it just isn’t the same. When I learn to stop loving you, maybe I’ll love you again.