A stolen chance and
My own foolish anxiety
Kept us far apart.

I have just met you.
I fell in love and in lust.
I'll never see you...
                                
                                                      ...Again...

I want to be stuck
Inside my little world in-
Side my little box.

I can't explain the
Way you're making me feel. I
Think I feel something.
                           The feeling swells in
                           My chest. All I need now is
                           Your strong hand in mine.

It seemed like time stood
Still. And I counted down the
Minutes one by one.

These different states we walk across, our toes skimming the edge, arms out for balance.
My head is like a metronome swinging back and forth. The only reason it stays is because its attached to my neck.
We continue to hop the rest of these bobbing platforms. They dip in and out of the water that we're forging across together.
You're a few steps ahead of me. It doesn't seem that much distance but suddenly you're being swallowed by the fog.
I can't see you tip-toeing over the lonely islands anymore.
I'm lost and even though I'm afraid I try to make my way. I stop just on the verge in my bare feet on the slippery isle.
I look up and away from my cold toes and through the thick haze I see the pattern of your summer dress.
Little blue and yellow flowers dance in the now blowing wind. Your leg peeks out and they step back. I reach out a hand for you.
But I suddenly lose my footing. I sway and and grab at the air. I find myself falling into water that never touches my skin.

He lays awake just after death has left and life has breathed fresh air into his lungs.
His state is questionable, fragile, sickly-sweet.
His eyes remain tight but through the sliver he can see her.
The strength within him is not much but through muster and the dreamlike purgatory he wanders he slowly lifts his hand.
Tall, carved from stone but with a lump in her thin throat she gazes down at him.
He believes that all he sees is a dream so he begins to whisper soft, such lovely words to her.
He asks questions with a voice that is shallow but has the quiet intensity of the wind.
"Love," he begins. "Do you think she could have loved me?" He finishes his sentence with a slow breath.
The small man resumes to lay there breathing ragged, however, steady.
Such words he'd spoken before about walking across the stars and love.
"Where she stays, she is far away from me." He tells her, although she stands still beside him, her fingers lightly brushing his.
A decision remains in her mind, her heart and an answer resonates on her tongue but she can't find the courage in her voice.
She says nothing and continues to listen to his muted mumbling, lips forming the words but saying nothing more.