With much variety,

With the comfort it gives,

With the limits it holds,

With the protection it provides,

With its soft fabric,

And sweet aroma,

It is only yet

A collection of threads

That is much depended on.

A poem

It feels wrong.

I never thought it would happen.

Though now that we are here,

It couldn’t feel more real.

A part of me is missing

Now that you are gone

Like a river without water

Like summer without the sun.

For June, you will forever be missed.



Time is what we have together

Time is what bonded our souls


Blood is just the facts

Blood is not the reason we love each other


Love is what makes us human.

That we care

That we want

That we need.

Love is what ties us all together.

We care too much

We want too much

We need too much
That is what makes us who we are.


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