Untitled #1

I miss you like the deep soil misses the tepid sun. Once warmed by her daily glow, But even then scourged by her nightly setting. Oh how my deathly cold stones and mud covet those blissful hours Over this dark loveless purgatory I've been condemned to. But does the sun miss the soil? Only in the roots can she show her love? Is she vibrantly gleaming on the trees and plants above me? Because these roots make me warm. They take from me what I have to offer.... And I feel loved.