Six years, and you appear on my dashboard,
Your face just beaming up at me from the computer screen.
I should add this to the list of reasons I shouldn’t be on facebook.
Six years, that’s about 189,216,000 seconds
See, I can be good with math—sort of--
With the help of a calculator—but what I can’t seem to be good with
189 million seconds later, and an ocean away,
And you still hold my heart in the palms of your hands,
Those hands that used to wave at me from afar.
I thought I’d wrestled this fickle heart of mine from your grip,
Won the tug of war, gotten over the butterflies you’d given me,
But now I understand that you’ve only relaxed the string.
189 million seconds since, and you’re tugging
And tugging and tugging and tugging.
Are you even aware of how hard you’re tugging?
And here I stand
Paralyzed, the ropes in my hand, but I have lost
All inclination to tug back.
In fact, this is less like tug of war and more of a drug problem,
And you are the wretched drug that I inevitably relapse into.
The drug that I love to hate because you keep me floating
And floating and floating
When all I want to do is land.
189 million seconds since our last goodbye and here I am
Still willing to thrust my life at you
Like I had done far too many seconds ago.
189 million seconds, and I stare at a face that has changed over time,
A face that I vaguely recognize,
A face that had always broken into a smile when our eyes would meet.
And 189 million seconds later,
That that face no longer recognizes mine.