We will call out to each other through the air

middle_distance

graft
Nokyoung Xayasane

I turn over
in my sleep.
Was it just
three weeks ago
when we first met?

These days,
time
seems so
condensed.
A lifetime
passes in
twenty-four hours,
everything changes,
distorts, evolves.

Things are lost
and found,
misplaced
and irretrievable,
people emerge
and fall away.
Nothing remains.

We are
the minutes
that tick by,
voices
sailing through
the air.

You told me
once,
that everyone is
searching for love
in their own
way.
Their loosened
hearts stumbling
through the darkness.
Their arms
outstretched
clutching
at the air,
hoping
to land
on something
soft and warm
and true.

I wish
I could’ve been
that person for
you,
for all that
have come
and gone.

I wish
we could’ve been
those people
for each other
all our lives.

Instead,
I’ll write you
these lines
and you’ll
put
pencil
to paper,
trying in vain
to graft
something
simple
and true.

We will
call out
to each other
through
the air.

(March 2016)

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