Tell me, did we meet before the world was born?
Did your soul brush against mine
when time was but a whisper in the dark?
For I know you—not as a stranger,
but as a wound I have carried forever.

You are not my joy, nor my peace.
You are the weight in my chest,
the shadow that lengthens as dusk falls,
the ache that reminds me I am alive.

A soulmate—what is it but a mirror?
A cruel reflection of all I have lost,
all I will lose again.
Yet, I would chase you through lifetimes,
through ruin, through fire, through madness,
if only to know that I was right—
that you were real,
that we were meant to suffer together.