You were in the background of a photo,
your widow’s peak and August eyes,
beyond the door I never opened,
I’m looking for something that isn’t there.
This should be easy,
I should be having fun,
untie the past from the present
until it comes undone,
but time moves slowly out
of phase with how we perceive it.
How long the lifetimes that we live through,
long enough for dust to gather on the bookshelves.
Every street a familiar portal,
our jokes still hanging in the air.
I was talking to someone,
I said, “Don’t dwell on the past.”
It’s been years since that conversation
and now I want it to be back then,
but time moves slowly and
“We lay there without moving.”
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