Love is found and love is lost, within our minds and within our hearts.

As couples tie, the future writes, where and why they're obliged to split in tense, before the thought could even rise and tread inside our darkened skulls that don't make sense, our skinny thighs are washed aside and caught instead,
by the silly heights of the tides of life, their chilling splash drowning out both our wars and art, hence,
my defence:

Like a fish on land;

I wish a humming bird would just sing and dance, as it crushes my inner child, takes my hand and decides to
pass the stars before swinging left,
crashing hard into the fickle sands of Mars, non-intact, we'd die on impact, hand in hand, but unimpacted, without giving a single ****, because with this act,
our scars would be dissolved within its tangent,
not only would our bond be branded into a carefully distilled, living planet,
we'd successfully **** old habits, thus expanding the soul's own bandwidth.

We are one, we are magic.