Our heartbeats were too intertwined.
I never thought that this could be a bad thing.
I wanted to protect you.
I felt that I would never be able to leave your side.
You were a child to me, myself at a certain age.
You needed someone to fight for you.
I thought I was the ideal person to do so.
I wasn’t even aware of my anger.
I was not the right person.
I had to be strong for you.
But where would I find that strength?
We both had the same damaging original roots.
How could I heal you when I myself was sick
In the same way? I wouldn’t let you go.
Love should be as far away from a leash as possible.
I was the child.
We shared something holy.
But we needed to figure it out.
There had to be space between us, recognition, inversion.
Our growth was one where one hand holds the other.
Where we climbed a mountain back on back.
I would hold you, and you me, crying and screaming over treetops.
You put a crown on my head and I returned the gesture.
We shared the same truth and our hearts beat next to one another
And there is enough air for both of us.
“Élégante au bouquet de fleurs” by Caspar Ritter (1861-1923)