Our feet could touch, we're so close, yet we're thousand miles apart. The dawn sun sweeps out the windows, mocking us with its all encompassing warmth. It knows every shadow, knows more about you than I ever really could.
You tried. I can't deny that. Both of us have tried more than most.
But sometimes that isn't enough. Effort is useless when pushing a mountain from both directions.
Our paths touch, yet not quite.
You don't tell me the what keeps your eyes open at night, and you respect me enough to not ask about mine. We set too many boundaries that both of us are terrified and hesitant to cross.
But when the sheets ruffle on our Californian King Bed when you reach for me. When you stroke my shoulders that carry the weight of heartbreaks and heartaches, I feel like there's hope. I feel it in my bones that we can change when I sew the stitches not even your mother can mend or kiss away the pain. We're two soldiers, licking each other's wounds.
There's hope for us both to climb that mountain on this Californian King Bed.