Years & Years
When I was a young boy
Dear Charlotte,
the distance between us are seconds
stretching into minutes
flowing; a river of memories
crossing milestones,
damming,
wherever Life has deemed
necessary for us to stop.
Take a breather, explore.
The roads are short
and the bends, treacherous.
They are filled with ticking-
tick-tick-tocking time bombs
designed to detonate
right when we are happiest
when we are stagnant
Life is an argument.
In the course of growing up,
negligent —
itemized selections of Darwinism
building up walls
creating effigies
of past, self, demons
and loves.
All the lovers float
in buoys, haunting.
I have travelled
26 years of loss,
built up monologues
parsecs distilled
into even drams
measured by his smile,
fingers intertwined,
the spaces between
here and now and forever.
Dear Charlotte,
there is a breath lingering
in the light that flickers
never quite burning
out of the caves
where all our demons dwell
reminding us that
the longest distance in the world
is between here
then
and goodbyes.
