You, Me, and The Lonely Tree

There has always been this sadness, like a fog, obscuring my thoughts, my actions, my sight. There has always been this aloofness, like a storm around me, and I, at the eye. There has always been this coldness, a wind brought on by the month I was born, it seeped into my lungs when I drew my first breath. There has always been this loneliness, it houses me, like a balete tree, its roots deep, its branches wide, its vines so thick, I barely see the storm raging outside. It only allows me to see sunsets: the bright warring oranges and violets and pinks before the sky becomes a void, and I am, once again, sheltered by the balete tree that is my loneliness. There has always been this affinity for endings and death, and the relief they bring.
Then there was you, braving the fog, the storm, the cold, the giant tree with its fortifications. There was you, and you stepped into my cell of loneliness and self-doubt, and held my ice cold hands in yours. There was you, and you made me think that maybe life would be more interesting than all those endings, maybe death was not as beautiful a relief as the fire you gave me that had finally begun to bring me warmth.  There was you, and you wrapped me in your arms and waited patiently for me to thaw out, whispering loving words I could not reciprocate wholely, not then, not yet. There was you , and your warmth, and this fuzzy feeling you awoke in me the moment we shared our first sunset. There was you, and your smile, and you were with me in the eye of the storm, in the middle of the fog, under the lonely tree, huddled together for shelter against the cold.
Then there was me, again, finally, truly, all thawed out and alive. Now, there's us. It's a strange feeling, but I welcome it. It's foreign to me, to give someone this much power to hurt me, but you have it. It terrifies the cold out of me, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I am happy with you, under my lonely tree, waiting for the next sunrise.