Time

We skip the puddles of lost time in our conversation.
There's much to be said. so much more
but no one seems to say.
So we laugh, that nervous laugh that fills the space of time.
It's a nervous wreck of silence. Give it time I think.
Yet time does not erase the salt that stains your face.
There's water in on your cheeks.
from splashing in the puddles I guess.
So I pull you closer,
you embrace my warmth,
and time does not pass, it will not pass,
and I am knee deep in its puddle.

Once again, for the third time, you ask,
What did you say?
As if to say you did not hear me,
even though I said nothing
that's on my mind. Give it time I think.
Yet time is an eternity--light years of cold galactic winds.
There's goose bumps on your neck.
from the wind outside I guess.
So I pull you closer,
you embrace my warmth,
and time does not pass, it will not pass,
and I am light years away.