a thought of two years

if
you hold my hand,
i'll hold yours.

i'll hold yours
like it means
everything.

we'll watch
all those movies,
eat
side by side,
with the precision
of a clock.

we'll fuck
on beds,
our parents beds,
we'll fuck indoors
and out.

we'll do this damn near
almost every day,
multiple times,
some times.

i'll even show you
what my tears look like,
when nobody is looking.

you showed me yours,
and i'll never tell.

but then,
all of a sudden,
a wall appears
that breaks our grip,
and there is always
some celestial body
that disintegrates
into the very being
of dust.

you go your way,
and i'll go mine,

and there will always be someone,
to watch that movie,
to break that bed,
to catch that tear.

and there we go,
once again,
disappearing into
the distance,
this thing called
us,

and really,
it's no different than
the other her's,
or
the other him's.

but maybe,

one day,
as
your trapped
in traffic,
one of our songs
will appear
through the radio,

or maybe,
i'll pass by some
stranger
on the street,
with the same replica
of your eyes,

maybe
we will remember,
something good,
even if it's just
for one minute.