We all enter
This world alone
Empty purses with
Empty hearts in
Which we then
Place fondness and
Affections and love
We also withdraw
From that purse
The exact same
Things donating them
To others and
Realizing that little
Remains for us
We stand huddled
And alone broken
Until at last
Someone tosses in
A few coins
A few more
And then many
It is not
How full the
Purse is that
Matters it simply
Matters that it’s
Empty for only
Then can it
Be filled again
Again and again
We bumped
Into the
Other while
Looking for
Something else
Or so
I had
Always thought
Until you
Told me
Years later
That you
Were looking
For me
And I
In turn
Were looking
For you
Pinky swear
Promises are
The highest
Form of
Promises sealed
With a
Kiss and
A cross
To the
Heart and
Can never
Be broken
Except by
Both Bean
We’ve made
Many and
Only ever
Broken one
Last night
Shall we
Make another
To be
Friends forever
And once
Again there
We were
In our
Own little
World though
Surrounded by
Others why
Does that
Happen to
Us how
Can we
Revolve around
Each other
While the
World lives
In chaos
When don’t
We exist
Solely together
Stronger together
Than apart
Lucky we
Are to
Have each
Other to
Keep ourselves
In orbit
I don’t
Mind goodbyes
Or explosions
Or even
The shattering
Impact of
The discovery
Of another
What disquiets
My little
World is
The constant
Chipping away
Of the
Hammer at
My heart
I’d rather
It strike
The final
Blow sending
Me to
Shards than
Trying to
Sculpt me
Into something
I’m not
