I heard the question mark when you first saw me
and the exclamation point when we first talked

I heard your commas when we walked and spoke
your colons before you delivered the punchline

I heard the whispered parentheses
when you told me you loved me.

Then I heard the semicolons when we fought
with ellipses and brackets of contained rage

And finally, I heard the period
at the end of the sentence that was us.

My hands will constantly feel empty
now that they aren't holding yours.
But at least now I can write comfortably.

Listening to music is much better
when I'm not sharing
the other earphone with you.

Sleeping earlier is a better alternative
than talking to you until
the wee hours of the morning.

It's nice to not worry about
looking over or under dressed
because now I'm only dressing for myself.

And lately I have come to realize
I don't need you
at all.

It's 3:23 am
and I can finally
say that I don't miss you

but i will.
i will write it and it may take me
five minutes
or it may take me fifty.
and neither of the two is an absurdly long amount of time,
unless you really think about it.
because five measly minutes
is just the same
as three hundred seconds.
and three hundred seconds
is just the same
as three hundred thousand milliseconds.

we've only just covered one-tenth of an entire fifty minutes,
yet already we have before us
three hundred thousand intricate units of time,
each lasting for the blink of an eye -- no, less --
then vanishing,
like the evanescent remains of a flame
that has been reduced
to first sparks,
then dull embers,
then ashes.

the funny part about it is that you never know
what each tiny little bubble of time might hold,
what might happen when it forms,
or when it pops.

a millisecond is incredibly short,
almost unfairly so.

but three hundred thousand milliseconds?

it can't be said what could happen as those fleeting fractions
slip away.

we may try to grab hold of them,
to catch them in our palms.

but time stops for no one.

so you may find yourself
with empty, bleeding palms,
as a reminder that time is harsh, cruel,
tyrannical.

and as you wrap bandages around your wounds
(or maybe not),
those fleeting milliseconds
will laugh with sudden bursts of cynicism,
like fireworks,
deafeningly silent.

they will laugh
at what a fool you were,
thinking you could catch time
in the palms of your hands.

(a.m.)

And now I guess because
you're not replying
and your phone doesn't seem to vibrate
every time I send you a text
our relationship is in silent mode.

I used to think
you're gonna miss me when I'm gone.

But judging from this hollow ache I keep feeling,
every time your name doesn't appear on my phone,
I was wrong.