Cycle.
They would circle each other forever. Always touching but never meeting in the middle.
They sliced through the lake in silver blue waters. She watched his arms glisten under the sun, felt the primal nature of his strength take center stage as they seperated themselves from the world. camping underneath the stars. He always looked out for her, he always provided for her, perhaps that was the reason it was so difficult to let go.
And when the sun started to set, he took her out on the canoe, and they sat in the middle of the black lake, watching the sky, letting the wind slice through them. To speak, would have made it cliche. So she made it silent.
And they sat under the stars, listening to the silence, staring at each other across the boat, asking questions he couldn't hear. He stared at her, tilted his head. They talked to each other without speaking. listened to the answers they wanted to hear.
And then they were okay. And they were in love. Baby, I love you in whispers.
And then they were not. I don't think we were meant for each other.
Screaming in the car in a parking lot. For the first time, she yelled, her voice breaking above the volumes she swore never to rise to. After that, numbness overtook. She remembered crawling into bed under the covers, feeling tears that were meaningless. Feeling drained and empty like a shell of a mannequin. He came back, of course, he always did. He soothed her, he kissed her, he touched her, she stared up into the waterstained ceilings. She had disappeared and it was over.
Now under the protection of her sanctuary, her room and her space where no one can approach, she is whole again. He is on his way, back to rejoin their union. She shrugs. She lets him, and the cycle begins yet again.
They sliced through the lake in silver blue waters. She watched his arms glisten under the sun, felt the primal nature of his strength take center stage as they seperated themselves from the world. camping underneath the stars. He always looked out for her, he always provided for her, perhaps that was the reason it was so difficult to let go.
And when the sun started to set, he took her out on the canoe, and they sat in the middle of the black lake, watching the sky, letting the wind slice through them. To speak, would have made it cliche. So she made it silent.
And they sat under the stars, listening to the silence, staring at each other across the boat, asking questions he couldn't hear. He stared at her, tilted his head. They talked to each other without speaking. listened to the answers they wanted to hear.
And then they were okay. And they were in love. Baby, I love you in whispers.
And then they were not. I don't think we were meant for each other.
Screaming in the car in a parking lot. For the first time, she yelled, her voice breaking above the volumes she swore never to rise to. After that, numbness overtook. She remembered crawling into bed under the covers, feeling tears that were meaningless. Feeling drained and empty like a shell of a mannequin. He came back, of course, he always did. He soothed her, he kissed her, he touched her, she stared up into the waterstained ceilings. She had disappeared and it was over.
Now under the protection of her sanctuary, her room and her space where no one can approach, she is whole again. He is on his way, back to rejoin their union. She shrugs. She lets him, and the cycle begins yet again.
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