In those late, fragile hours
on those dark, desolate nights
my soul seems to wander the earth
searching for a heart that matches mine

if soulmates do exist
then i'm missing a puzzle twain
Plato wasn't fallacious when he said the soul splits a brace

once you cradled my hand in yours,
our fingers dance, entwined;
I sensed this eternal connection,
that we are forever, intricately aligned