comparisons of love.

He was not the very loving kind. Strange, strong and stable.

She was exactly the other side of the horizon. The usual, simple but flowing.

He was those rock hard mountains and she being the streaming river cut her way out of him.

She had no way without him. He had no beauty without her.

Both made each other live.

She was the kite. Her limit was beyond the sky. With dreams and fantasies she flew.

He, being her string, pulled her back each time she lost herself among the nowhere.

She was the wound. He was the blood.

As she screamed he oozed out of her. They caused pain together.

Her novel had his chapters. They breathed the same lines but wrote a different prose.

She was the heart and it beat him.

With every beat they created a new rhythm of bonding.

Being together they realized that every “he” and “she” conveyed a different story of togetherness.