They're invisible because they're moving too fast
And I wonder what else I haven't seen
That's passed me by, moving too fast
A library of stories told only once
And I'll never hear them because they were read too quickly
Lower the shudder speed and you might catch a glimpse
A peek into the photo album of everything you've never thought to notice

An unfathomable amount of things happen every day and I'm not a part of most of them
I'm left out of an uncountable number of moments, all of which have the potential to be incredible

I'm moving too fast, I'm invisible

That's one way to look at it, but here's another:
Every moment I experience is exclusively specific to me
Every moment I experience is a photograph taken just for me, added to an album that only I will get to look back on
Every moment I experience is a novel written just for me, a story that only I get to read

Nothing ever moves too fast
Everything I need to see is moving at exactly the right speed

I’d like to imagine our hearts
With tiny hands, doing their own dance
When we are chest to chest,
Away from the world, as my lips find meaning in yours.
I’d like to imagine our souls,
Tearing away from our body,
Moving to the rhythm of heartbeats so loud they can pass for music,
But that is exactly what they are.
I’d like to imagine the gasps and the stolen breaths
As if they are pieces of your higher self
(Oh, but can there be a higher you?)
As I trace with one hands the jawline that made me dizzy
And with the other, the ribcage that made me safe.