puzzle pieces, we fit together, our lines almost touching, but not quite. the rhythm, the beat, the rise and fall, the sound of the emptiness of space between noise, the pull, the pull.
a tiny gap, a slither, almost unnoticeable, but there, the slight dissonance between us, that we try to reconcile, through touch, through voice, through exchange of light.
it seems we fill it, in the peacefulness of sleep, in the liveliness of our dreams, in the blurriness of our vision as we wake and see the fuzzy figure that makes up the other.
we fit, but we don’t, we are, but we aren’t.
love. and everything. colour. sound. flow.