Two

Two brothers, One the fighter, Two the lover. One was young and to blind to see past the fog of pain, Two was old and masked the fog with smoke of his own. One never stopped, movement kept him alive and anger kept him warm. Two desired the distraction of skin and essence of potion. One fought for answers that could never been accepted, things being only taken and nothing ever being given. Two succumbed to lies, allowing self to become a walking sun with no core. Yet One fell in love, One's pain drove him to pleasure. Two never accepted love, for acceptance is belief of whats deserved. One became a father, a husband, and yet the pain lived. Two had only One and One had aged beyond that of Two. Eternal youth was given too Two and no longer the fog could be masked with smoke. Two tried to take away his gift, One was left with the pain of seeing Two succumb to what One had lived with. Yet Two would not listen to One, it took innocence. Ones scion was given the story, and understood the pain. One's son question cleared Two's fog, although some would always remain. "Two, tell me about One?" No lie could be told by Two, No distraction was worthy of Two's attention, for innocence reminds us of how life can be both simply beautiful and complicatedly ugly.

For two brothers that gave me more than they ever had.