White Lines

Black walls, gray bore, one dangling light above the floor.

Some pillows, one bed, it wasn't much, but who could ask for more?

I start filing the blanks with white chalk, on the wall.

The dust is so putrid, I fall.

But then I look at the drawings.

Circles and lines,

Complete opposites,

But yet they connect

For the much greater effect.

I remained balanced.

I was never good at math,

But on the wall, I drew out a map.

One plus one, well that equals two.

You put two and two together?

Now I don't know what to do!

The room remains black,

But the white lines they form,

Two people?

Oh wait, I've seen them before!

"I've read this story!"

I shouted as I sat on the floor.

"Yes, that's right!

He moved away,

She had to stay.

He was the prince,

But she never saw him since."

I drew on the floor two hearts,

They were separated and apart.

"But what she doesn't know is that,

Everybody connects, some way or another."

The chalk traced to each center,

Then attracted a burning fire.

Maybe, they'll end up together.

Just have to help fuel the fire,

Both of them.

To make it grow more,

I hope so because her heart grows so sore.