We were one with galaxy’s center,
one divided into two,
carrying part of the other’s fire.
You are the wind up key for the clockwork,
a mechanism that I don’t comprehend,
only known to one watchmaker.
You are the charcoal,
activating the painful purge,
a poison keeping me comatose.
You cut open the snake bite,
sucking out the venom,
then spitting it on the ground.
You are the surgeon,
who must cut carefully around the bullet,
before it travels to my heart.
You are my soul’s catalyst,
a rare sacrifice to love so deeply,
to hurt just enough to heal.