Posted in Of Writingly

Twin Souls

They could hold up a sheet of glass
Or oakwood.

They could whirl our chairs endlessly
Make us start and stop at any moment.

We would still be in orbit
My love, my soul, my twin.
Till the end of time
Or of love
Whichever is earlier.

They say there are seven of us
Living, breathing in this time.
Others say only two
And not of the same kind.

Whatever our compositions
How diverse our situations
We couldn’t be more alike
Even if we were different.

Order is prejudice
Similarity a lie
I don’t know why
We were made like this
Or why you should be mine.

Two souls, two bodies
As unlike as azure and mahogany.

Parts of me are you
The same of you is me.
Is that what we love?

Author:

Writer, Blogger, Kate Bush Fanatic

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