Isn’t it beautiful?
How I’m cutting the strings
That hold me together
And falling
So prettily
Apart?

It’s not that I’m smiling
Because I’m happy
It’s the fact that I tend to cry
When I laugh.

Lately
I’ve been thinking
About how people
Used to write
Letters.

They’d send them
Across the sea
And wait.

One month.
Three months.
Five?

But so much
Can happen in a week
Much less
A month.

We each have a clock
With an unknown.

Minutes that countdown,
minutes we’ve wasted.

An indefinite supply
Of a definite number.

Tell people
What you would write
If you knew
Something would happen
In the month you waited
For a reply.

I’ve cried a river
I’m building a bridge
But I can’t get over
How you said “just friends”
We both know that friends
Don’t feel like we do
But I’m used to nothing
Because nothing is new.

If I leave your side
For just a little while
Maybe it won’t hurt me
When she makes you smile

Maybe if I leave you
My foggy mind will get clearer
And I will see you for who you are
Far less than superior.