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.