fire and water

The ache I have for you starts in my finger tips, 
And it rattles my bones,
I have made you my home.  Oh, what a move that was made that September night,
I never would’ve guessed,
That it could lead to this. Maybe we’re the moon and the ocean,
You ground me and influence all I do,
Without you I’d be reckless.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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