I don’t see you as if you were a tomb,

For my feelings, or a bottom for my rock to hit.

I see you as one sees a beam of the sun on a rainy day,

Relieved, glad, and thankful that the hardest of times are over.

I see you as a comrade, 

one that Karl Marx would have been proud of.

I see you as an alter ego,

On whom I can lean upon when my soul is meek.

I see you, into your self-materialized soul,

Born from my limitless imagination.

I see you and I feel you every day,

As I lay to rest, away from all troubles of life.

I see you as I love you, not knowing any other way

to embody you,

Except in this form in which I am not nor are you.

So warm yet so cold, that even the Arctic would be no match.

So cold yet so warm, that even the Sahara desert would be no match.