i missed you yesterday
and the day before
and the day before
when i hadn't seen you for a month.
time was a monster gnawing away
at the walls of its cage between my ribs,
its chains rusting and cracking with wear.
the present was a dreamer's life
of sleep and rest and zoning
because how else could i reach my perfect world
of us?
the past was a landmine,
every moment a missed opportunity
for more time with you.
and the future was repeated images
of when it was finally today,
hugging and seeing and knowing and having.

i missed you earlier
more than i ever had before
when i saw you for the first time in a month.
somehow time had freed itself
and i guess it saved our "us, maybe"
for its main course
because by the time i got to you
i could see in your eyes
that we were already gone.