I lay and you atop of me
in comfort; safe.
Still I miss you every time
you die a little and breathe out.

Eating two slices
With Nutella in between
And chocolate milk

What’s it called?
A wishlist? Bucket list?
Whatever
Had I one, I would wish this:

Somewhere
Where I am me, you are you
And the world is the same
But not really

Somewhere where physics is different,
Reality a little ****** up

Where food cooks faster
Then tastes better
Where cats don’t act ******
Four in the morning
Where what we liked more
Cost a little bit less

Where clouds could be slept on
Soft and cushy
Where breaths underwater
Spoke to the Fish
Where dragons exist, I don’t know

A place that’s better,
In a bad way.

There's regret, shame,
and a dozen dozen times of
'I wish I'd take it back'

That's of mistakes, blame,
and misjudgment decorated
with two licks of misfortune.

You, me; everyone.

But I don't want a time machine.
Not because it can't work, theoretically,
nor because it'll be a mess if it did

I don't want a time machine.
I want that **** on my back.
I want my cut hands.

I don't want a time machine.
I want my insults to stay.
I want my old friends' grudges held.

I don't want a time machine.
I want my lost to stay dead.
I want my living to stay alive.

I want me. This me. And you. And everyone.

So there's that stuff
in the first two paragraphs,

and there's peace,
and it's been staring me in the
eye for way too long to miss.