I realize
time is a gift.

Love is a need.
Forgive a key.

We are just bridges,
needing to be crossed.

Waiting.
Thinking.

What´s next?

You're the mechanic
And I'm probably your best invention
Because you gave all the parts
That made me the way I am now.

From worthless static,
To beyond innovation.
Every piece of junk
Turned into working gears;
I never expected
This kind of transition.
A fueled, robotic model
Capable of envisioning
Beyond the gray matter.

But your creation
Learned to be alive.
From being automated
To self-regulating.
Every working gears
Turned into flesh and blood;
I never expected
This kind of transformation.
A breathing sentient,
Finally free from your dominion.

All this time,
You pushed me
Through the incompatibility,
To reach the maximum
But then I burned out
And eventually got a ticket to the trash.

My theory is that,
I overloaded
Because you overdrived.

So, I guess I wasn't your best invention after all.

Cut and Dried. Bit and Stitched
Oh he still loves her. They married and were in love, still are, have kids and what they had. I won't say they had what all married couples had cos they didn't. She died, leaving him the widow.
Think of that fact, imagine it was you. How would you cope? What would you do?
Oh, he did things. He drank for a year, had dark ultimate sin thoughts, PTSD shell shock. Yes, it was a war and he suffered a defeat. It was his wife, lost in this world. Then he started writing a story, one he must finish. Or all is lost except memories.

Then something remarkable happened. Not his loss by his suicide. He met another, twin mirror image. What are the ******* chances of that? No ****** would dare take that bet. None.
She lost her boyfriend, a victim in the same war of stolen souls. His lady will understand, for she has been involved in a war and an equally forlorn a battle. I am shocked and try to understand. I wish him well and say remember her, do the book.
Me, alone.