You were my world.
My whole earth was slowly being flooded by your powerful waters.
But one day, those tidal waves forced me out of my own land. The way we used to fit together no longer felt right. We could lie to ourselves no longer. You were the passionate, beautiful ocean and I was the deep, dark night sky.
And I- flying through space, where tiny pinpricks of light became fierce, blazing balls of fire in my endless galaxies of darkness- learned then that there were other planets; other galaxies, even, for me to discover.
I became an astronaut on the day your earth became too small for both me and you to fit.
And suddenly, I realized that we had never truly fit together- not because you were big and I was small- but because we were both big, both big and in different shapes. Puzzle pieces that simply almost fit, could even be forced together, but didn't truly belong.
You can crash fearlessly on the shores without worry of hurting me now. I can live as a beautiful sky of darkness dotted with silver pinpricks of hope.
And when I realized this, I bid you a fond fare-thee-well as I began my new journey through the blazing stars.
We are both far more beautiful now that we are apart.