You say I’m biding my time
Here, five years behind you.
Well, love, my world has changed
In pitch and season
Fifty times without you.
The time has gotten lost
Along with the details we had in common,
The spaces between struggled conversations at midnight,
Just 9 o’clock for you,
But always the time where we’d exist,
And exist,
And exist as one unit
Terrified to think that we’ll wake up tomorrow
Under a pocket of uncertainty.