Where is this going?
What's this attraction between us?
We always seem to tend towards this, you and I
And yet, it never feels quite the same
Where are we headed?
No matter how we try to move apart, we always veer back towards an eerily familiar pattern
And yet it's maddeningly different every time
Just slightly so
I don't know.
As if a final concluding rythm between us,
a determined path, a set rutine, a carved out groove
Would ruin the very nature of what we have
What we have fleetingly, yet somehow determined, familiar yet strange
Perhaps the surge of uncertainty, the feeling that safety can give way to chaos at the slightest disturbance
Is what keeps those butterflies in our stomachs
Everytime we meet