I never thought I would bond
with a god over death, over getting
torn away from all we love.
Maybe we argue so much because we’re
both redheads, but then you showed me that
the snark and sarcasm hides innumerable pain.
And damn it, now I find that I actually feel like
I understand you. We clash and we argue, but
there’s understanding to our verbal sparring now
that the mutual snark and glaring may be the glue
holding us both together. We’re the same, you and I
both thrown into a time beyond our lives, torn back into it all
by choice of resurrection or by tarot cards slapping me with the truth.
I’m a universe away from my Beloveds, you came back after
a thousand years of death, and we are both so fucking angry.
We could burn the world down with our rage
(after all, we’re both associated with fire)
but you’re right…that’s probably a bad idea.