If we were numbers on a die.
I’d be six and you’d be one.
Thrown together by fate, latched to each other, unable to let you go.
You are always my number one. And I am always your number six.
The furthest number away from one, that a number on a die can physically be.
Unable to touch, not able to look at one another, yet never destined to live apart.
When you are on top, I am your foundation.
When I am on top, it’s only because of you.
We are each other’s strength, and we are each other’s balance.
Our sides add up to seven, giving each other purpose, and making the die complete.
Even though you’re far away I still feel close to you; I even feel supported when you’re not there to lean against.
And no matter where life throws us, we’ll always have each other.
Yet I want so much just to touch your face… to tell you I love you.
To do so, would be to saw the die in half…
To let each other go.
To be independent and to be free.
Yet to do so, would be to break my heart in two…
To do so, would be to die myself.