This the irony of Fate

We were once kepéla. We were once independant of ourselves, at least I was. We were once oblivious and clueless, each not knowing there in the vague silhouettes of the crowd, was a heart similar to its own. Like a key to its lock, we complement just right. Like the hands of the clock, but we probably never met until it was the right time. Meeting you didn't make me feel complete; it made me incomplete. The inadequacy I feel without you, yet I get comfort when your words wrap around me, in which I revel. Everything starts reminding me of you, what am I to do?

We were once kepéla. Now we're on the same side but alas, I do not know what lies beyond. I can only marvel at the beauty of the sunset but never knowing where the sun goes. Someday I may know. Someday, pray, might come at the right time. Not in haste, just in time for us to smell the flowers and breathe.

We were once kepéla. Thankfully, not anymore.