It takes time to make a mind impervious to cold and kind. Not one to fail because I never try, knowing all too well it takes time to die.

So let the ghosts in your head unwind, sit with me and pretend it's fine. Together we'll keep our spirits high; whatever it takes to make the years go by. And as the fruit ripens on the vine we'll not be so shy to blur the lines of what's "yours" and "mine," but rather let the two combine. Let them twist, tangle, and tie and never explain just why.

Maybe then deities will bet that better halves can be sent, for the sake of letting bygones go by because there's no reason to pacify the voice of "you're not what we meant." Because we have nothing and are content; with our palms so empty we should grab all we can get but we have no desire for that yet.

With the maps and designs forever fixated in our eyes, we'll construct the invincible mind; the eternal being of you and I. Like imagined stars connected in a sentient sky; we'll use ambiguous dreams to bind every ancient thought we couldn't simplify. Then write all our lives into one sinlge line and at the end we'll leave it signed:

"Our greatest lie is it takes time to die."