Once Again I Fail to Look Away

Instead, we sit together beside the sunset, the moment and I. 

We are having what’s left together 

in that ephemeral yet timelessly mesmerizing glow, respecting each other’s presence, 

in the shadow of fleeting clouds 

already settling into memories. 

All the stars can align. 

I’m giving them my time, my captivated eyes. For once, let’s forget the distance between us, and sit quietly beside me. 

I won’t name you a miracle 

or ask you to stay— 

only to exist with me, 

as the night tears open, 

where airplanes pass like shooting stars, and constellations loosen from their names. I drift through this fleeting reality, 

until dawn carries you away. 

In the afternoon, 

at lunch with the sun overhead, 

and again in the evening, as the light fades I’ll sit with myself up till midnight, 

updating the moon 

on how the day went 

while it was away. 

All the days we’ve already lived, 

the ones we’re living now, 

and the ones waiting their turn 

ask nothing from me. 

We will sit quietly underneath the sky, 

shared by everyone, yet kept quietly 

by each person who has ever paused beneath it, and listen to the quiet that keeps us there.