Sibylline

Quite sure that finding you was divine in nature.

Of some sorts, it was a blessing, for others a curse.

You will lift me as I will lift you but our horizons may not mirror one another.

Your back may be the last thing I view and I may have never watched the tears drop from your eye.

Our encounter filled with lessons, wisdom, garnished with a touch of fear.

Fear so having a safety net that helps keep a distance manageable to slip out in the middle of the night and never surface again.

Courage was our first encounter, freshly shaved legs my approach[smooth], & your reaction grateful for simple pleasantries.

How is it that we have gotten to the end of our sentence. After so many paragraphs, chapters, prequels, and editions.

Had this been foreseen or surely overshadowed by each interaction. For every crisp rain and faint goodbyes was this dramatic finish identified to us?

I know we have been granted access but what are we receiving? My equal in many accounts and my adversary in others.

How is a rivalry acknowledged without the villain?

How is a hero defined without an antagonist to thwart plans of resolution. Is it confusing that your greatest savior sometimes is the foe you despise?

Is it by chance you met me in turmoil to save you, but you may be the very undoing that requires me to be saved?

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