Infinity passes by in the
tick-tock off the clock.
Our eyes bounce off everything
but each other.
It's like we can't remember the time
when we'd rather talk about us all night,
where our breaths mingled together, trying to discover all they could of each other in their fractions of existence.
But I wonder.
If our future
never approaches anything,
not today
not tomorrow
not in years,
then what proof do we have that it really exists?