The Better Half

Crawl through mud and ash
Empires long forgotten
To reach
The better half of me
I prefer the tall grass 
And the wind whistling through
But I'm not divided in two
There are open fields,
Mountains of green
Where my mind wanders, and you
And maybe I prefer doors that 
Say welcome 
Even though you never open
Or bat an eyelid
When I sing and dance
Perhaps
The better half of me
Is me