All in good time;

In order not to hate you, I need to love myself again. I am learning to take breaks, in between the dips of my relationship with you. You see, at the start of a connection, I usually jump in too deep, swimming into the waves of our personalities, that boundaries start fading with each common interest we endure.  We begin flowing with each other, to a point where the shore’s existence seems too unnecessary, as safety beholds in our presence. Our worlds get interconnected at our own seas, octopuses perceive our eight limbs as a threat to its survival. We merge together, as the connection raises its roof, and have us drowning into each other, begging for some air.  In order not to hate you, I need to love myself again. In order not to hate you, I need to take easy breaths again. I order not to hate you, I need to hate you, until I love you again.

Some bodies feel like home, It’s not the shell of the body, but the collection of cells familiarized with each other.  You become connected to their core in an instant, Your cells make love to each other, connecting on each level, sharing thoughts, words, soft touches and heavy breaths.   But if each cell in our bodies get replaced every seven years, then what becomes your home? my love, would my old cells teach the new ones to love you? Will the new ones agree? ————————————————————— I have read this sentence once somewhere, “The atoms that make up my body aren’t mine, it’s just my time to use them.” So tell me,  do we come from the same stardust? will my cells have the time to get familiar with yours? Are we losing each other every seven years? Or are we teaching ourselves to last?