His

In Him, she found a shard of herself. How was that so? How was it that He knew her better than she knew herself? The thought of Him taunted her like a song you couldn’t get out of your head. His voice echoed on, even in her dreams. My voice? His? It was becoming difficult to decipher. Impossible to ignore. The world was coming alive right before her eyes. How is this something one could ever deny? The blatant sychnchonicities. The hues of violence in His tone. The sense of longing in her own. Because even if she was not physical kneeling to Him, her mind was. She battled with herself as to which she longed for most. His presence was tantalizing. He was her universe, she His. It was two universes not recognizing the other as such.