for this to be
in this life to exist
i pretend to use
words in sentences for what they mean
i paint you in the entirety of how i explain
and if time exists in the way you are
then you are the only thing real to me
because what is real
if not the moment something is felt
and i felt you
in the quiet parts of my mind
in the places where thought dissolves
and something softer remains
at night i find
the creeks to be calming
their slow voices
moving over stone and memory
to know we exist in this life
or is this a dream to me
but i believe the little rocks
that float in longing
the way they move without asking
the way they belong to the current
and maybe we are like that
small things carried by time
touching briefly
before the water decides
and bliss finds me
in the horrors of what we called
a street i can’t even call
home because
it feels to not exist in
this life
walls that remember voices
corners that held our silence
places where we stood
pretending the world was simple
i believe we intersected and swapped
something between our hands
something invisible
something that changed the air
the universe i feel lives in the parallel
a second version of this place
where time folds gently
and the choices we made
still echo somewhere else
intersections sometimes meet
briefly
quietly
like two lines learning each other
before separating again
but we pray to find something else
something that stays
something that does not dissolve
when morning comes
in this time
in this life
in the fragile moment
where we remember
that even passing things
can feel like forever