Move.

I can't stay here.
I can't stay here because I'm afraid I might lose myself in you.
I might get sucked in and your bones would become bars.
To keep me, to become less me and more you.
We would walk around together and people would think you were pregnant.
I would be half you just feeding off your substance.
My heart fibers twisted up into your heart fibers until it all looked the same.
Messy, tangled, important, and always more complicated than it seems.
And then there's the space...
You would want to take it and I would want to give it to you until I couldn't breathe.
The merging would be painful, a violent overture of violins and drums.
Percussion and strings would mesh, ride the air, become more beautiful over time.
Just the faint memory of the sound would bring tears of joy and rapture to our faces.
We would ride the hurricane winds and think ourselves special.
Because we stuck it out, we would be different. We tried harder where others gave up and failed.
The fact that we are the normality would escape my attention until far too late.
Ordinary and boring will sneak up on the merging in the night.
Undetected until the time to fight it has long past.
By then I will be less me and more us.
Who I might have been will wake me in the night, remind me that I have failed life.
What is there to do but dance it through until the end?