time zones

i liked how our suns came and went at mismatching times. i liked that while i was drinking morning coffee, he was sleeping effortlessly, dreaming soundly. I liked that our brains weren’t operating within the same ticks, our hearts weren’t breaking at the same settings of the sun, our eyes weren’t open in the same sentences.

I liked the distance, the thousands of miles, the time zone apart, the knowledge our lives were ticking at different intervals— it favored me, to know, he wouldn’t think of me, while i accidentally thought of him. God forbid we collide in that space of time where two experience the others presence…while their minds create the same thoughts at the same instant….. and they recognize they are not alone.

If that happened—that would be terrible. I could not handle his brains collide against my most prized organ, i did not want to be near his presence, or have him know i existed in any space where he was alive. I wanted to evaporate from his brain, i wanted to be exterminated from his heart. I wanted the time zone always. The thousands of miles forever. I always wanted to be awake while he was dreaming.

(heart-stabbing words—marching along, stepping right through the strongest barriers of my heart)

I did not hate him, I did not wish him pain or sadness, i simply wanted to be ignorant of his careless resemblance, to know that the honest significance of my name would never fall off his calloused lips…..pronounced on his sneering tongue.

But….if one of us had to possess our story, I would volunteer my capricious heart. I would hide each saluting souvenir within my most brilliant organ—IF that would suck my identity from his bloods cells, cut out my presence in his heart. I would take the responsibility, I would embrace the collapse of our tricksy desire.

To see him once more, have him look towards me with his embarrassed smiles, try to flirt…with pretend use of foreign languages that i unfortunately knew better than he….to have knowledge that he knew not who I was [anymore]. I would smile gaily back, and be happy, walking away with gratification, knowing our story had finally ended—happily.