Two bank of river
We loved like the two banks of a river—
always together,
always facing one another,
always listening to the same song of flowing water.
You on one side,
I on the other,
and between us
ran the restless heart of eternity.
Wherever the river wandered,
through forests wrapped in mist,
through villages asleep beneath yellow lamps,
through storms that shattered the sky into silver—
we followed.
Side by side.
Never apart.
The moon knew our story.
It watched your reflection tremble in my waters
while I reached for you
through currents that could never carry me close enough.
Sometimes, in the silence of midnight,
I thought I felt your fingertips
inside the cold wind crossing over me.
And perhaps you too
heard my name hidden
in the sound of waves touching your shore.
People called it distance.
But they never understood—
distance was not our sorrow.
It was our destiny.
Because if someday
your earth touched mine,
if the two sides finally became one,
the river between us would disappear.
The flow would stop.
The journey would end.
And the thing that kept us alive—
our endless reaching,
our endless loving—
would die quietly beneath still water.
So we loved in the cruelest, most beautiful way possible:
close enough to feel each other forever,
far enough to never belong completely.
You were the shore my soul followed.
I was the bank your heartbeat answered.
And the river carried our love forward—
never united,
never separated,
forever unfinished.
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