The Heart That Beats Because It Has Stopped

I am holding a heart that does not exist, yet it is the only thing keeping me alive.
He told me he would love me forever—a linear lie in an era of circular time. So I built our romance on a causal loop: we are meeting for the first time tonight, even though we have already spent ten years together in another life that hasn't happened yet. The air tastes like rain and neon lights; it is cold enough to make me shiver, which is how I know my skin is finally warm.
I shape my hands into this heart—a symbol of a love so complete it becomes empty. He looks at me with eyes that remember everything they are about to forget for the first time. We whisper promises we have already broken in future centuries, and yet each word feels like an original sin.
The city around us is screaming in silence. I lean closer, my breath ghosting against his neck—an invitation into a space where being alone together is the only way to be truly united. He touches my cheek with fingers that feel both familiar and alien, as if he is discovering me for first time while simultaneously missing me from an era we never lived through.
I love him because I have always loved him; therefore, I must now begin loving him so that it can become true. We are trapped in a beautiful contradiction: the more we heal each other's wounds, the deeper they grow—and yet, only by bleeding do we realize we were never broken to begin with.

Editor: Paradox