Impossible Love

We are the parallel lines, that man and god created. Time and circumstances ablated.

Two exact, complete, and wholly untouched lives, live-wires humming, and buzzing in the same dark room. Their currents, and their electricity consuming.

Perfectly tuned, perfectly ruined, forbidden to ever touch.

I was forced to accept what we could never be. Words and dreams and our ever drifting reality. What could bring us back, what could pull us out.

We are brutal and shaped exactly like us, perfectly imperfect halves, pieces of the same whole, two parallel lines stretched to their infinite max, running side by side through the same gardens and trees and hillside ravines. We feel heat and we burn, we smoulder and we learn. But it was never to be enough.

Are we two lines that were built to never touch.

To love you is to stand at the exact intersection of hell and earth. A place I can never enter, exist, leave or flirt.

Trapped in the static confines of a life that can never give birth. A place that can never hold us, or mold us for anything more.

We had our sanctuary, our bubble, our crossover worlds. We had fleeting moments and minutes and hours and seconds. We stole our shadows, we stole our sanctity. We short circuited our only chance. What is left?

I don't want to watch you dissolve into the atmosphere without me.

I don't want to leave be pinned to the stone of your absence.

I don't want you to leave me.