It's strange.

The want to consecrate the footing we first stood petting.
The urge to expose the portion of each other.
Yet south and south met, forgetting.

It's strange.

The display of your happiness leaves my core,
Wanting nothing more but the reveal of darkness in your heart.
The cowering you left me, and no need you felt to show your sword in the midst of war.

It's strange.

How someone who can mean so much,
can leave without a fight.