My heart dropped
behind my lower ribs just now because I realized I haven’t seen you since the
day I left. I heard your voice once through the walls and still I lift each one
of your flannels to my face whenever I come upon one, but I haven’t been
greeted by your face for weeks and it scares me that time is moving so
aggressively. I feel time because he grabs and bruises the inside of my wrists
and forces me away from you. He’s pulling and I’m scared to turn around to find
you in case you’ve gotten older since January, or in case you don’t wear the
same smile anymore. Would I recognize the way you carry yourself? .There are
few feelings I have as complex as being captive to time- he handles me in a way
that says I will break you, and the ocean says I will swallow you, and your
hands say I will hold you, and the forest says I will lose you. The first day I
ever saw you I imagined how your eyes would shine fifty years down the line.
Months later I wrote a poem about them and it still sits between us, those
words about your eyes, and I find myself telling time that some things will
never change.
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