you and I are like
the strong minute hand and the fragile second hand
of the old grandfather clock in the library
there’s a harmony and a connection
they belong together
but they’ll never actually be together
you and I are like
two cars on a desolate country road late at night
as they pass each other from opposing directions
for a moment, all they can see are the headlights of the other
blinded from anyone and anything around them
but it doesn't last that way for very long
the journey continues
you and I are like
this movie i saw once with a happy ending
but that movie didn’t last long either
or the hundreds of poems I’ve written about you in my head
that never actually lived to breathe on paper
or the wildflowers in the field that are killed
by the frost every year
when our eyes locked from across the room today
it didn’t last very long
but in a way it did, behind my eyes
inside my mind, I still see you
your eyes looking into mine
and maybe it’ll always be this way
the way the minute hand and the second hand pass each other
without turning around for a second glance
a second chance
and you’ll always pass another car on the road
perhaps the same cars day in and day out
going different directions, suddenly they’re gone
and movies end, words are lost, and the annual freeze is inevitable
and I hope that, eventually
I won’t look at you and search for a second chance
because when it comes to you and I
just like the passing hands of the grandfather clock
goodbye is as inevitable as the death of the wildflowers
and as painful as the headlights in my tired eyes
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
you and I are like
the strong minute hand and the fragile second hand
of the old grandfather clock in the library
there’s a harmony and a connection
they belong together
but they’ll never actually be together
you and I are like
two cars on a desolate country road late at night
as they pass each other from opposing directions
for a moment, all they can see are the headlights of the other
blinded from anyone and anything around them
but it doesn't last that way for very long
the journey continues
you and I are like
this movie i saw once with a happy ending
but that movie didn’t last long either
or the hundreds of poems I’ve written about you in my head
that never actually lived to breathe on paper
or the wildflowers in the field that are killed
by the frost every year
when our eyes locked from across the room today
it didn’t last very long
but in a way it did, behind my eyes
inside my mind, I still see you
your eyes looking into mine
and maybe it’ll always be this way
the way the minute hand and the second hand pass each other
without turning around for a second glance
a second chance
and you’ll always pass another car on the road
perhaps the same cars day in and day out
going different directions, suddenly they’re gone
and movies end, words are lost, and the annual freeze is inevitable
and I hope that, eventually
I won’t look at you and search for a second chance
because when it comes to you and I
just like the passing hands of the grandfather clock
goodbye is as inevitable as the death of the wildflowers
and as painful as the headlights in my tired eyes
my fear, my dear
