Without Halves

Not an inch stood between us, but our bodies did. Clawing at one another, at ourselves, we couldn't get any closer. Death - sweet release - an alternate to the limited existence that plagued us. The maddening torture, the panic, the agony; born of the longing. The longing to be part of us - not I, not you, not me, not we. Us. A whole without two halves. A life without bodies. A life without bounds. From we are, to we am, to I.