I gaze at the moving pathways,
out of the shifting boundries that
we create for ourselves and one another,
this-and-that puzzle pieces that
long to fit, and sometimes do, or
once did.
I shudder at the inadequencies.
There is a riverflow of golden halos,
blonde hair and half written apologies
(full of creases and scratch-outs, since nothing seems right
or good enough to warrant your attention)
and the distance the clock hand travels on each hour has flown by like seconds, to days, to weeks.
Sticking around long enough, I realize it will soon switch from months to
years.
I can't help but wonder how long it will last this way.
Already it has been months and it feels like a lifetime, or better, a past one.
But maybe
it was better this way.
It still drives me insane to calculate that immeasurable distance between tick
and tock and for some
strange reason, it never seems
any shorter than
the token, once-a-week fifteen
minute car ride at 100 miles per hour
(due to impatient destinations)
and hour long drives back at sixty
(with reluctantly parted farewells).
But, hearts do beat again, in ink and
on sleeves.
Lungs will collapse and refill with air, less the nicotine ratio.
And without a word, a scent, a touch, a glimpse,
I am still traveling the trails of broken hearts, slowly healing,
the weight of ages gradually lifting
from my shoulders.
Maybe it's only been a tick or a tock since I last thought of you, or wrote about you
(not that I can tell how long that is anymore)
but at any rate, maybe...
Maybe it was better this way.
Comments
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wow i really enjoyed reading this!! i especially like how you mention towards the beginning that maybe it's better that the past few months have felt like a lifetime ago, and then you relate to it in the last 4 lines of the poem.the last lines were the best, but you had my attention the whole way through while talking about what time can do to two people. well done!! <33
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