Here we are. The two of us. Lost yet never more found. Apart yet never more together. Separate yet never more one.
We can’t count the miles between us, or fathom the time that has us staring at each other through empty space. We’ve lost the number of moments we’ve sat next to empty chairs, sang songs to empty air, and grasped at sheets left undisturbed and dark in the moonless night. We are, the two of us, so much a part of each other that the emptiness of our absence only seems darker, emptier, and lonelier. I should be feeling you next to me, and you should be so confident in my presence that there is never an emptiness again.
But alas we are, the two of us, alone.
We stare at the same stars and bask in the same beautiful sunlight. We laugh at the same things, and find pleasure in the same simpleness of life. We’re both brave in our way, and even in our moments of fear there is nothing but the other roar reminding us of just how fucking powerful we are. When you lie in silence you’ll hear my purr, and when you tremble you’ll hear me roar, never doubting that you will not be left alone to fear much in the darkness.
Despite where we go, or what we do, there will always be that memory. There will always be a distant sun that reminds us of this love that never dies, of this moment that never quite lets another come to be. In that way, we never walk alone.
If we are never to be together again , my love, I know that upon my dying breaths I will take note of the gifts this life has given me. I will see the great love that surrounds me and, even in your absence, feel your soft caress upon my arm, and hear your roar that subsides my fear. I will walk softly into the night beyond, hearing forever that soft voice that has so often been the light.
Without one there would have never been the two, and without love there would have never been the two of us.