Imperfect Beasts

 Maybe we'd have better luck as strangers. As two separate souls who never started morphing into one imperfect beast. In the beginning, we  danced together, into each other, clumsily, with ecstasy and confusion. How strange this was. Another soul so close in shape to our own. There were vibrant explosions of complimentary colors. My demons bowed graciously to yours. It became hard to tell where my thoughts began and your words ended. We flowed seamlessly together; we were an electric summer storm. And we were infinite. Naively infinite, for we had begun to discover the cracks where our souls met. And they kept growing as the unconscious picking turned into relentless introspection. And we were drowning. Drowning in the flood of expectations our gilded state of coexistence created. The crown we shared could no longer fit us both. And the mirth we once effortlessly exuded transformed into menacing echoes. Now we've resurfaced- separate and bitter. Strangers with nothing but a hardened scar where our souls were intertwined. Imperfect beasts once again.