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The Other Half

The softness of your skin
Cradled the roughness of mine
I was afraid of scratching your surface,
Of marring your perfection
All that came from it, all that happened
Was that our two different paths
Collided and found a way to wind around
Like the gears of a clock, or roots in the soil
And I found that we were made that way;
That we were made for each other

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