She played with time
between her finger tips
like it was nothing at all.
And, yeah,
I suppose I was envious
of that.
When I looked at her
she was at peace with it
-whatever it was-
But what I wanted and what she was
were two different things.
Isn't it funny how time changes us?
and yet,
At the heart of it,
we're still the same.
I would watch her
as she would fabricate
a whole new universe
before my very eyes
and I would wonder
where in that universe
I could fit in
or if I even would.
She played with time
like it was just a fond memory
and she existed somewhere
between it all.
I suppose
I should have asked her
for her secrets
but her closed lips
and distanced stare
told me all I needed to know
I wasn't ready.
But sometimes
I would lie awake
at night
and think about the electricity
that flowed through her
and the galaxies glowing
behind her dark eyes.
I don't know.
But I wish I did.
I'm not lost
but
I'm certainly not found
and I guess
that's just what scares me the most.
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