Your hair is growing longer
as mine grows shorter.

Hair does that.
Sort of.

The remnants
of whatever we shared
fade
as time speeds up,
the length between our visits
and our conversations
growing,
from weeks,
to months,
and possibly years.

We see just snapshots now.
Each greeting
a glimpse
                   into
the change we are no longer affecting
in each other.

I feel a longing
for the days gone by.
And I think you do too.
There's stability there.
All our lives we've screamed and cried and clamored
for change, but
once we have it,
palpable and in our hands,
we don't know what to do.

"I miss you,"
is what I want to say.
But instead I say,
"I love you," and "Good luck,"
knowing that
not even words
can keep us together.

Your hair grows loner,
as mine gets shorter.
Our faces change.
Our mouths learn new words,
our eyes new faces.
Time does that.