(no subject)

[tattooedsmile]

he tells me six months can be
significant. a half-year, enough time
for wars to begin and end,
two thirds of a woman's pregnancy,
two seasons, approximately four thousand
three hundred and twenty hours,
more than a quarter of a million minutes
possible for conversation, awkward glances,
i love you's, crushing arguments,
around one hundred and eighty goodnights.
but when i flip through the half dozen
pages of my calendar, all i recognize
is the appropriate amount of time taken
for me to fall in and out
of the idea of you, for you to grow
bored of me, and for me
to slowly detest the static
of our continent, and the way you
just can't be bothered with telephone lines,
even when i ask politely, even when
i am ripping at my seams.
someday you'll see our could-be-potential
and remember,
not for a single second
did you run after me.