A connection- intimate, predestined, prophetic in its seeking.
I have found the other half- the horribly taught end of the knot that connects to me,
and yet she had tried to unravel it with dull sheers: careless, useless.
Not for a sake of my appearance, nor my personality, but because she fears such an otherworldly thing. Something real, something her heart yearned so loudly for it sounded like a feral cat screeching every time she thought of me.
She is not used to someone adoring her so truly, she caught a glimpse in the mirror and realized with a prick of the ears that she was the cat, trapped and thrashing.
My soul tugged back, beckoning for its other half to stay, not fray,
and in her quick attempt to break she only wound herself tighter into its prey.
It is a discomfort we both feel, but one I cannot soothe like a child tying a loose thread around its finger until it is purple and swollen and scissors cannot quite slip to free it.
My heart feels much the same, and I am unsure if it will ever remedy.
It is not my choice to make.