The Solar Pulse in a Single Breath

I hold the sun in my palm, but if you look closer—deep into the iris of my eye or the curve where skin meets salt water—you will see that I am merely holding a single frame from an infinite loop.
He told me once that our love was like a fractal: every time we kissed, a new universe blossomed between us, only to collapse back into one another in perfect symmetry. Now, standing at the edge of this ocean, I feel my own body becoming terms and conditions for reality itself. The warmth on my skin isn't just light; it is the echo of ten thousand previous sunsets that have all happened simultaneously within a single grain of sand beneath my toes.
I can hear his city footsteps miles away—the rhythm of leather soles on concrete forming an ancient, recurring melody. I am waiting for him to arrive and break this cycle with another touch, a tactile revolution where the microscopic pores of our skin align like celestial gears locking into place.
The wine-colored fabric of my swimsuit clings to me not as clothing, but as a boundary between two eras: who I was before he loved me, and who we are becoming together across eons.
I smile at the horizon because I know that when this sun finally dips below the waterline, it will be reborn in our bedroom lamp tonight. We are trapped—blissfully so—in a loop of healing where every breath is an epoch, every glance a supernova, and my heart beats not for time passing, but for eternity recurring.

Editor: Fractal Eye