Counterparts - You're Not You Anymore

A garden grew between us in the love we lived without.
Remaining faithful to the flood, our tears have purpose in drought.
Tread lightly, so footprints can't disturb the bed we've made.
With restlessness reserved for both the bodies it contains.
Aim your sharpest arrow at the center of my chest.
A memorial to signify the sense of helplessness.
We dare not mourn our past lives, our loss will be reborn… because I couldn't love who you were, but you're not you anymore.
Sew your skeletons to mine, I'm no good on my own.
Stitch yourself to either side of me so I will never be alone.
We mend our past mistakes as a symbol that we've grown.
So we no longer place our weight on top of broken bones.
Mark an end to aimless roaming with a double sided knife.
If we develop eyes for others, may we both be stripped of sight.
Liken our dived to partitions in the earth.
Wrapped in walls of vines, growing out of common ground.
A garden grew between us.
Our tears have purpose in drought.
Mark an end to aimless roaming with a double sided knife.
Taking steps toward each other, we could end both our lives... and that'd be fine.