You'd think that living at the same time would be enough.

 

To think that both of us breathe the same air, and wait on the same clock, and occasionally sleep away the world and our dreams overlap.

 

I read somewhere that if you can't sleep it's because you're awake in someone else's dream.

 

Maybe that's why you're always awake.

 

How can you sleep while you're waiting on me?

 

I've got so much left of you and I don't want to let it go. It would be so easy to let the wind take you, subject your lost love to the trash can, the delete button, an unforgiving flame. It could be so simple. Throw you away, sever the heartstrings, tie them up onto different things. Maybe I could tie myself to something that wouldn't make me so heavy.

 

And I guess it's fine that we're made up of the galaxies. That our dust lands on everyone who couldn't possibly know a damn thing. And for one second I can believe we're the sun and the universe revolves around us. And for that one second, I'm convinced it's true.

 

It's fine that pieces of me are still scattered across your floor, to be swept up by anonymous feet, the soles of those I never knew.

 

I miss you.

 

I miss you so much.

 

And I can't stop.

 

I want so much to protect you. To guard you against anything that wants your heart. Because when you're breaking, I'm breaking too. And it's so much harder to stitch myself up when I'm using all the thread to fix you.

 

I just want you to share some of it with me. And maybe we could fix each other's broken parts. Maybe halves of us could make just enough to make one that doesn't fall apart with the midwest winds.

 

You're my atlas, my road map, the ribbon around my finger and the chain around my neck.

 

You're so far away and you keep getting farther. You haven't even moved but I can't even reach you anymore.

 

All I want to do is know you're close.

 

And if I thought "I love you" would fix it, I'd say it over and over until it didn't mean anything anymore. I'd say it until my voice was gone and until I couldn't speak, and then I'd write it across everything you'd see. And when I ran out of space I'd hold you so close you'd feel it pulse right through you. And god by the time I was done you'd pull me closer and I'd feel you saying it too.

 

I'm so sorry

 

I know

 

Are you alright?

 

No,

 

I'm lost and

 

I'm lonely

 

without you.

 

And I'd tug so tight I'd break you in half and we'd fall apart together

 

instead of alone

 

at the same time, under the same stars, waiting on the same clock,

 

and that would be enough.