Endless

Stolen from others;

the only words that come to mind these days.

I tried and my own words got twisted.

No, that’s not

exactly right either.

I meant what I said.

Our endless days are numbered and

I only have so much time to tell you

how I feel

in words clumsy in the darkness,

spilling out into empty air.

 .

So I’ll watch them fall.

 .

And tell me, what’s the ratio of time spent to time left?

D. Not enough information;

our numbered days are endless and so

instead I’ll learn how not to regret the way

my lips move when they speak slow and mumbling into the screen,

the way my body rests, awkward and alive,

alone and uncertain, light and heavy on this chair,

on this planet.

I’ll learn how it feels to breath in and out into each minute,

how not to rush ahead because

I don’t want to miss a moment with you,

even if I’m not.

 .

What a line.

.

We all say, no, I mean it;

if I said that too,

does it make it less true?

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