We had our hands bound with a checkered scarf.
Not like we wanted to let go of each other.

And even before then, before public vows of being together, we were close.
Close enough to be in each other's dreams.
Close enough to share our fears and hopes.
Close enough to do something about it.

We have healed from past wounds via our union.
We don't have to take it so easy.
We could dive through the sky.
Tramp over deserts.
Stay up all night.

And not let go if we don't want to.

This has been a Random Inspiration

Con*glu"ti*nant (?), a. [L., conglutinans, p.pr.]

Cementing together; uniting closely; causing to adhere; promoting healing, as of a wound or a broken bone, by adhesion of the parts.


© Webster 1913.

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