No matter how much you plan
And try to cope with the distance,
And months, and time differences
No matter how many ways you
Establish modes of communication
Just to have daily conversations
The sticks will fall
And land where they land
Indifferent to your plans
After awhile you will fall
And land where you land
Regardless of those previous plans

after three years side by side
fate displaced us, far and wide
but at that point, i had no choice
you were on the opposite coast
and only distance could make
my heart hurt the most

after six months apart
it was harder with a three hour head start
but at that point, i was
already exhaustively engrossed
and only time could make
my heart hurt the most

after four more months passed
your presence was vanishing fast
and at that point, it began to feel
like you were a ghost.
and only our busy lives could make
my heart hurt the most

before one more word had been uttered
my mind became completely cluttered
and at that point, my heartbreak
was instantly diagnosed
and you were the one to make
my heart hurt the most

even through distance, time, and life
thinking it was worth the strife
at all points, i tried to never give up
you were my pillar and post
and i was the one
who loved you the most

you've convinced yourself
that the difference between
it was supposed to be me
and it is me
is so small
that it barely plays a role
in your everyday life

when in actuality,
it bites at your every
waking
sleeping
dreaming
thought, gnawing at
your incompetencies
displaced by your own
inability to cope with your
failures.

before the deadline passes, and it's too late
what makes ME the ideal candidate?
must orchestrate a thousand word song
conveying my skills and awards that make me strong

i assemble my troops
arrange my activities, my groups
compose my unparalleled traits
so beautifully it narrates

but with every question i've read
listing every team i've lead
with every box i fill in
about things i seek thrill in

the less i want this position
the less impressive my ammunition
the shots i fire
are empty shells aimed at anyone who'll hire

but what i'd really rather do
than fill out forms for God knows who
is write a line of poetry
that describes my apathy perfectly

quantity
the numerical elements
lacking order
like chaos
in a sea of

red
so vivid and uniform
the parade of bishops look like
a stream of hot lava
pouring their way down
the mountainside to the pope
or perhaps

a bird
delivering its message on
wings so sharp, jagged
cutting through the blue sky

essential
its message
fundamental to the core
of the earth, of the heavens
without it,
nothing

i am
a fire escape
a secondhand city
balcony
a clandestine mine
forgotten of its purpose
left to be discovered
with the next explosion