You're 33

You're 33,
I'm 29.
The ages we've always been,
were always meant to be.

Spring nights.
The promise of summer,
freedom, uncertainty.

We've always been dark rooms,
quiet music.

We've always been empty beds,
bright screens.

We've always been an idea,
odd numbers.

Our current was deep,
the deep was hollow, 
the hollow was free.

Only when I sank did I unfurl.
Only when I drowned did I see,
that it's always been just me.