but i also want to write without you.
i want to escape your pages and feel
the rough texture of my own. soon,
when all the want has vanished and the
thoughts i have can be fully unraveled,
when the flowers have wilted and dawn
has reached its maximum fluorescence,
when the pebbles stop skipping and we
cease to be a single entity, bound by
ink and rhyme, rhyme, rhyme,
then finally, I can be my own lines
my own paper, my own spine
my own verse, my own free soul.