Like a river finding its delta, you washed away the sweat and the tears that one day finally stopped flowing for life had granted you flowers on the narrow path you walked. And still, you stayed. You became a soft wind, cool enough to sway the baby hairs on my skin, tickling sweetly, brushing against the fallen leaves you gently guided. You breathed air into my stuttering lungs, gave dew to a light that had dried, gave numbers to a love that could not be measured. And my heart grew not as tall as a tree, but rooted deep. You were my friend in my lowest hours. When the world sharpened its thorns, you said we could hurt together. The wounds from those thorns we healed them side by side. You witnessed my foolish teenage years, the first time I learned what heartbreak tasted like. You grounded me with logic, spoken in the softest language so my gentleness wouldn’t shatter. We are two poems forever trying to offer shade when someone else’s sky is rumbling. We are two words whispering softly inside a cloud, our imagination without borders. We are healing once bleeding, now closing, now whole. We are flowers once wilted by storms, once eaten away by parasites, now blooming, glowing, radiating like a rainbow whose colors never fade. We are a quietness that fills each other, a warmth that never leaves.