They parted
She left because he always looked down.
He left because she always looked up.

Of course she always looked up,
meaning she would pass strangers faces
and follow life through it’s guide.
It was only she who tasted the stars and the sun and the moon.
She could look at who spoke when she chose to listen,
and looked at smiles and floated through souls.
And read herself to esacpes,
understood brush strokes which formed the art that whispered to her through the rhythmAnd was bitten with dreams
and was thirsty to drown in every ocean she could.

Yet he still never looked up.
He never seen her fully
nor did he discover what was above, infront of her.

She left because she knew
when she looked up,
She was still tied down to his roots.
So she caressed a knife, cutting herself free.

When she looked above now,
her eyes were open brighter and her soul blushed at the winds.
Roots at her feet grew and planted themselves wherever she pleased.

As she left he was blind,
For it was the first time he ever looked up at the stars.

But it was the last time he would ever look up
To see her leave.