the thing about life is that it's the bitter things that make the sweet things importantMature

is this the part where you lean down
and hover your mouth close to mine?
where we breathe in the same air, still
warm from the lungs of the other, still
heavy with the lead we’ve been lining
our lungs with since we were seventeen
and hungry and full of rebellion and
vinegar and the sticky sweet honey your
mom only ever put on the table when
she was about to tell us something terrible.
we were abhorrent, then; so steadfast
in closing our eyes that we would go days
without opening them.  the seeds that were
buried in this soil are all reflections of you.
these roots are thick and digging deep,
searching for yours.  

The End

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