the white seconds
look like a
blanket of snow
on your mustache
have you stopped running
from the air
that tastes like lost time?
the gap in between your
two front teeth widens
like truth when you
tell me about the past
and how you used
to get into
a lot of fights
when you were in
7th grade
their names hard
to remember now
crusting into
the bottom of
your mind
like sugary milk
i never found the time
to ask you the important
questions:
how have you been since the
world has stopped?
do you still chain smoke when
you're anxious?
are you still beautiful?