We were once told that we are the missing part of someone else with an empty heart and a lost soul, taking the absurd, roaming around the world as barely whole.
And as I look at two points, a double vision
meeting the one's orbs, unwaveringly— a north star, perfectly aligned upon the night sky. An anchor to a heart, it is engraved deep in waves, tumultuously enfolding each flesh— a longing as to be found in the wilderness, a pillar as to be run into, safely.
And though my love clung to a myth,
bounded to a constellation embodied us
and traced in our palms, they will remain a story from the past.
Mar 23, 2023
Mar 23, 2023 at 9:05 AM UTC
We were once told that we are the missing part of someone else with an empty heart and a lost soul, taking the absurd, roaming around the world as barely whole.
And as I look at two points, a double vision
meeting the one's orbs, unwaveringly— a north star, perfectly aligned upon the night sky. An anchor to a heart, it is engraved deep in waves, tumultuously enfolding each flesh— a longing as to be found in the wilderness, a pillar as to be run into, safely.
And though my love clung to a myth,
bounded to a constellation embodied us
and traced in our palms, they will remain a story from the past.
