I've always believed in soulmates.
The thought that there was someone out there who's bones curved in just the right way,
who's skin was just the right amount of softness,
and who's heart was sized just perfectly enough to fit in another's chest.

The Greeks believe the Gods made people as two.
Two heads, two sets of limbs, two bodies,
one heart.
And they feared they were too powerful like this,
so they cut them in half and each soul was destined to wander the world.
Desperately searching for their missing parts,
Desperately searching for the rest of their heart.

The scientists believe that when the universe was created by the big bang,
atoms were split in half by the force of the explosion.
And these tiny incomplete pieces of matter float through the universe.
Hopelessly wishing for gravity to push them toward their origin,
Hopelessly wishing to be made whole once again.

And I always believed these theories solely applied to lovers,
until one day I looked in the mirror and saw your reflection staring back at me.
Until I realized the voice in the back of my head was not my conscience,
but your own words guiding me through life.
When I cried your tears would flow through my eyes,
and when I laughed I felt your laughter echo through my smile.
My bones always felt hollow until they connected with yours
and my heart would ache with loneliness until it met yours.
Somehow your heart was shaped perfectly enough to fit mine like a lost puzzle piece.
And the days when your soul burns,
so does mine,
because you are my twin flame.
An eternal connection that never dies,
can never be blown out or wither away to ashes.
The one fire that will never stop burning no matter what is thrown at it.

And I've come to learn now that a soulmate is not always a lover,
but sometimes
a best friend.

If you plant a seed in a small box,
as that flower grows it will push the borders of its confinement,
trying to get out.
And when it blooms it will be banging on the walls,
pleading for its release.
Eager to be free,
to spread its beauty among the world.

My heart is a flower trapped in a box,
except the box,
is my body.
My heart is too big to be limited to the bones that hold it.
It has so much love to give,
and simply no room to give it.
My skin has bruises from times a person has cried,
and my heart tried to pound its way through.
I'm covered in scars from when a lost soul has found me,
and my heart tried to cut its way out.
On the outside,
I appear black and blue,
beaten up,
damaged.
But the masterpiece of my pain,
was created by none other than myself,
by my heart.

You see love,
when you place something big,
inside something small,
it will fight and claw and tear its way out,
until its free.