The simplicity of touch.

The merger of two different but intersecting thoughts.

A million possible outcomes but here we are, the theory of chaos distilled down to an ellipsis of gestures and not of words, like the silent commune of two souls mystically intertwined. Who dare speak to that of which we are, to conjure things beyond such base discovery? If you could run afoul of things you would- far better to damage yourself before another could by living with the pain you know as opposed to the pain that you don't. Who could blame you? Not I. Who I am to you but a reflection of your wishes and desires, meted out in the smallest of doses. I am your wind. But you, oh you, you are my wings.