orbit

time is moving strangely today. the draw keeping me in place has
warped the fabrics of sequence so now and then all scramble
into something limiting my sight to only this,
only the present and not what if.

a singularity blips into existence, sparked by
[rest-stay-here-if-we-don’t-leave-don’t-breathe-maybe-this-can-all-last-forever]
i’m scared, like i always am. that what gravity holds together it can also rip apart,
that maybe the peace held here is lulling me into a false confidence
that maybe the pieces of me won’t stitch back this time

you have a plane to catch in the morning and the meteor spinning by you
is trying to bargain with god to make this minute last an hour. you’re caught
in the weight that this warmth holds, caught in the web of comfort
we’ve weaved here.

reality seems to blur as the past and present rush by all at once.

you have a
plane to catch
tonight. i will say
we need to leave and
you’ll look right at me.
as we become light, we
turn from something real
to the fastest star this future
shifting to dusty nebulous cloud
sparks of something new yet to collapse,
some twin stars’ foundation coalescing into being,

this phase of time will be fleeting, but we are not.
the only future i am allowed to see is the one
where we are still choosing to stay nearby
but in different orbits.