I wish we had
memories
to share and
things to tie us together.
But I'm stuck
somewhere else in a
life we don't share,
and you in a sunny
city that is promising
but just as isolating.
Time zones cannot keep up;
at nights, I think of
you waking up to
your day before
the caffeine's worked
into your system,
wiring you into another
day's captivity,
and on morning's
I think of how you're
already asleep,
putting the day to rest;
allowing yourself
to pause, even if
only for a while.
I wish we had
conversations that
weren't in
my head and
connections that
weren't hypotheticals
and I think that
if I could just
reach out,
across the oceans,
the boundaries,
the years in between
and the separate lives,
then we just
might be more than a twisted idea
inside of me.
And I'm afraid that
after the first conversation,
I wouldn't have made
the right impression,
that maybe we might
start off, on the wrong note;
(that maybe we wouldn't start at all)
So I panic
in a state of
delirium,
thinking about
things that have
wronged us off a
chance of ever
being.
But I tell myself I'm okay;
with you as a
perfect prototype;
a makeshift person of tropes I don't mind;
a reimagined fairytale,
that only I get to know.