you and I are like
the strong minute hand and the fragile second hand
of the old grandfather clock in the library
there’s a harmony and a connection
they belong together
but they’ll never actually be together

you and I are like
two cars on a desolate country road late at night
as they pass each other from opposing directions
for a moment, all they can see are the headlights of the other
blinded from anyone and anything around them
but it doesn't last that way for very long
the journey continues

you and I are like
this movie i saw once with a happy ending
but that movie didn’t last long either
or the hundreds of poems I’ve written about you in my head
that never actually lived to breathe on paper
or the wildflowers in the field that are killed
by the frost every year

when our eyes locked from across the room today
it didn’t last very long
but in a way it did, behind my eyes
inside my mind, I still see you
your eyes looking into mine
and maybe it’ll always be this way
the way the minute hand and the second hand pass each other
without turning around for a second glance
a second chance
and you’ll always pass another car on the road
perhaps the same cars day in and day out
going different directions, suddenly they’re gone
and movies end, words are lost, and the annual freeze is inevitable

and I hope that, eventually
I won’t look at you and search for a second chance
because when it comes to you and I
just like the passing hands of the grandfather clock
goodbye is as inevitable as the death of the wildflowers
and as painful as the headlights in my tired eyes

fantasizing future breaches in this ever-taxing wall
with every thanks due to you, and your cordial way of moving my thoughts
towards you, and upwards into this exotic dream of
clever rhymes and reverie, of fluctuating feelings and wittiness
with the rest of the story remaining untold, prosperity or tragedy
don’t let this breach tear my walls down from the inside out

please.

closed eyes, nostalgic rain like a heartbeat, the engine hummed, you sat beside, behind, the wheel, slippery road beneath the sturdy tires of your silly old car.
darkness surrounded us like a movie scene, it brought its grey memories behind eyelids like storm clouds surrounding my mind like clockwork.
you thought i was asleep, but i wasn't.
i felt your hand reach over, covering mine like a signal in the storm to stay strong, come home, don't leave me, your thumb gliding against my wrist like soft rain droplets on the windshield, the night was black velvet and you were a castle.
you whispered three words i've been aching to hear for so long, too long.
you thought i was asleep, but i wasn't.
every storm cloud dissipated into nothingness, despite every stinging heartache, lapse, flaw
i opened my eyes, turned my head to yours, and you knew
you knew
you knew
you knew
i love you, too.