we will grow old and torn apart
let us make our time last
let us never become the past

Again we had a fight
In his view like always,
he was right.
But what does actually matters,
to be right or to feel right?
With all this dilemma in my mind
I uttered...
No, I don't wanna be one with blight
Now this is the height
with these last words, I left that place
In search of a new light to be more bright.

Leaves, attached to the stem allowed limited reign over conversations with the wind.
Our first meeting, then the second, again the third, nights of sweat and liberation. No barriers.

The stem in which is branched out, sturdy and workable.
Compromised where we laid our prenup and hard lines.

The trunk, rough, thick and unmovable.
Our limitations, the barrier slowly crumbling, seeping through cracks.

The roots deepened earth as the foundation in which we lay our relationship.
I am always yours.

We are each other.
We are whole again.