I am a woman, who seeks for dependence in independence.
You are the absolute, solid synonym of independence.
I am the pages of a book that I have yet to discover.
You have already finished my memoir.
I have naive eyes that fall a bit too short.
You have bold eyes that can be made uneasy.
I fear of the world and its cynical motions.
You fear the thoughts that ponder about.
I read the words that I touch and that have touched me.
You grasp words and ****** them, in intimacy, not conspiracy.
I feel independent in the mere twist of a definition.
You feel the dependency and you cradle it.
I feel soft skins caressing my body,
and I take it as dependency inside of independence.
You are the words I touch, the letters I hold,
and the perfect line between antonym and synonym
I speak.