All my life, I fantasized about time machines—
About rewriting my own history,
About the changes I would make,
The wrongs I would right,
The words I would stifle,
And the words I would scream.
Time travel meant change and change meant I could be happy.
You are everything different.
If I found a time-machine, I would go back to the beginning,
so I could remember the exact moment I first saw you,
So I could demand my brain to swallow each memory whole,
Letting the taste of contentment wash over my tongue.
I would make myself see for the first time,
And breathe new smells once hopelessly familiar,
And study the countenance of your eyes,
And get lost in the folds of your irises.
Write to live immortal.