The dates are all mixed up and the clock

won't tell the time.

I suppose it doesn't really matter anyway;

I've stopped counting the days.

I guess you don't remember the plans we made,

unspoken as they were,

And I wonder if, when you notice that you may have forgotten

something very small,

You will ask forgiveness. Pity me?

I don't really need it, nor want it especially,

But you seem to pity so many others.

I want your regret, and I want you

to feel remorse for forgetting.

Maybe it would've been short; maybe it would've been

simpler than your smile

(beautiful simplicity – I do treasure it)

but it would have been me

and it would have been you.

It always would have been.

I wonder if I'm looking out a window;

I can certainly see out, and I can see that which

I long to take you from,

And I can see the snow as it falls, falls,

falls.

And I can see you; I can see the world from behind

this window.

It's not even foggy; it's not scratched or marred

in any way.

Maybe in one spot, where it looks like a child

has left a handprint; fingerprints, the snow has

frozen them in place.

Timeless,

Like a name etched in wet concrete.

I can stand at this window all day and watch,

and sometimes I feel like that's all I've done.

But I know, you know, we all know

that a window offers only a constrained view of what

exists.

Sometimes I see you, sometimes I don't.

Sometimes you appear, tangible, sometimes you don't.

Sometimes I wait, sometimes I wish, sometimes I pray.

Sometimes you're never there.

Can I ask what magic you abide by?

What morals?

Do you have any?

For you, I don't.

If only because I don't want to put any more confines

on what I have;

on you.

If I had such power,

however,

we would be over there, almost in that slant of moonlight,

but not quite,

and we would be writing a song.

Not me;

us.

I wish you didn't render me so optimistic.

I wish I wasn't so completely yours.

And I say this with the least amount of morbidity,

but if I am at a window, then please, let me open it

and jump.

Because part of me still trusts that it is into your arms

I will fall.