He angers every cell in her existance and the rage feels like home. The final destination for her love to lie. She moves through her day as though he does not exist trying to make him not exist. Every sound, every smell, every quite thought brings her back to him. She feels the lump in her throat and she finds a distraction to push it away. There it is again, what is he doing? Is he thinking of her as she yerns for his sound, his smell, is quite?
She loves him and the anger comforts her. It brings her back to him and back to him and back to him again. She prays to walk away and the anger reminds her of the love. He would not, because he loves her. She is as much apart of his existance as he is a part of hers. He loves her, right?
She loves his challnege and the house of discernment he moves her in to. Love forces her to unpack and settle in her new and final existance. She chose this and the feeling it gives her are like breaths. Her inhale against his exhale and the love and anger co-exist in this almost natural state.
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