Our roots were still new
when we were forcefully intertwined
What I remember most
is how sad that sinkhole in which
we were sprouting always seemed
when the sun wasn’t shining on you
But I never put the puzzling feelings
together until much later in life,
when chance caught me planted —
once more — inches away from
your familiar embrace
The moment my senses laid claim
to the soft strength you’d grown into,
I knew what my younger heart
had refused knowing;
that we were made to tangle
into one another until the seasons
could take no more of our
abundant blooms
So it is that I am smitten
with your every sound and motion
I am ripe enough for harvest
whenever you offer yourself up
to even the smallest bit of daylight
If nature asked it of me,
I would relive those humble beginnings
ten times over
in order to keep you close
I look to you in the dark
the way a child does a nightlight
when afraid
And it is the great desire of my time
to know that our branches and vines
will someday wither as one
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