sometimes i look to the west, in your general direction, and wonder if it's lonely that side of the universe.
we used to think distance didn't matter - physical distance, anyway. we claimed we could travel far enough and fast enough, more important than any petty thing like time.
i used to think i was smart, answering questions with ten-letter words that had small meanings. i talked big, but had a small heart; after all, you were the only thing inside of it. and it's funny, because i used to be so sure; now, i'm just another question mark at the end of rising inflection, another thing that wasn't meant to be. (and yet, i happened anyway.)
you used to say you never made mistakes, and i used to contradict you. then, one day you turned around and admitted it. fine; i'm not perfect, i make mistakes, too. but i hardly ever do. then you couldn't look me in the eye anymore, and found company in the comforting, stable concrete. maybe you were my only mistake.
on nights like these, i climb up on the roof - where we used to spend our loneliest nights - and i wonder.
i wonder if you lie awake at night like me. i wonder if the ticking clock haunts you like it used to before i came along; i wonder if you're all digital now, if you've thrown out your old grandfather clock. i wonder if you look at clocks and feel time slipping through your fingers like love, lost. (i do.)
i can imagine you now, tangled up in sheets like reverse metamorphasis; you're the caterpillar, darling, once-beautiful, now lonely. i can imagine you crying your eyes out to the beat of your heart. i can imagine you looking to the east, in my general direction, and wondering if it's lonely on this side of the universe.
but then again, i always did have an active imagination.
it's more than likely that you are fine, curled up by the window with a book about love, your two cats purring by your feet. it's more than likely that you are looking forward to the weekend, looking forward to getting out and letting your hair down. you do not care for clocks, or time - nothing is more petty, and you are not so shallow (anymore).
i can imagine you getting ready to go out, books put away and cats asleep. you don't have a care in the world anymore, and you couldn't care less about this side of the world. it feels so far, you think, and if i'm out of sight, i'm out of mind. it's simple as that. you are not so complex (anymore).
it is more than likely that you are fine, and are not looking my way, wondering if it's lonely on this side of the world.
but still, i wonder.