This is our time.
A time to share and exchange,
to live and relive.
But I am already out of breath
And in between short,
sharply drawn gasps.
I miss you so.
I wish I were more the tortoise
and less the hare.
“I want you, but I am petrified.
I think you feel the same.”
In my path, this is a crossing over
of one onto another on bloodied knees.
I bow down to facts.
Because life didn’t stop for you.
Because life moved on and left me behind.
But, “you can’t walk out on love…”
Write, flushing out that which
Remains untranslatable, unsharable
What I learned doesn’t show easy.
Look at these hands.
Look for the lines.
Then look at me. You will find them