history of two becomes one

there’s history in the way we form our words and phrases careful not to make a fool of ourselves in the way we hold a picture slightly tilted so it looks clearer in the way we move our hands over a new gift to feel its essence and memorise that new feeling in the way we raise our hands to our squinting eyes in order to have a better look at eachother in the way we look at eachother to only look away the next second in the way we leave our feet at least an inch above the ground to let them swing freely in the way we leave out words we dont want them to hear in the way we move our arms closer when we are trying to tell them we are here in the way we place our hands on other’s to tell them its gonna be okay in the way we look above us in times when we wish to avoid whats infront of us in the way we pick out our fruits and vegetables twisting them in our hands again and again before choosing which to keep in the way our voice always shatters and our hearts become heavy when we try to remember the names of the ones we have lost in the way our eyes become watery at the sight of that green we hold dear in the way a foot hitting the ground in a certain rhythm takes us back to a memory and a dream we closed away ages ago

in all of these ways, where you and i try to hold our history within our palms so that one day we can hand it to the ones who come after us, i want ours to align, to form a tale of its own, not knowing where one’s begins and the other’s ends, but knowing both were once two before becoming one.