that one time without the world

smile.
and then leave me with those grim accusations
you were always accustomed to.
grin.
and it's all over.
we will start at the beginning,
that one at the edge of the world.
that one that twists our brain hairs
and skin tears.
and then we will end right here,
right in my palms,
and replace our hearts for something breathing,
something better, something broken.
(which you always found just that much more poetic)
i still find it so fascinating,
how our time and space began, continued, and
ended.
here.
and how i am merely your widow.
still.
that one night i keep replaying,
forest lengths behind the books,
will never cease to become more and more of a dream.
soon, i won't consider it reality.
i won't consider you, with descriptions confidential.
remember that time we...
thought we didn't exist?
remember that place where...
it was never real?
and that's why it worked, because we were stuck in
an endless daydream. no escape in sight.
except for that time you...
became real. much too much too real.
you never gave me my valve back,
which i guess is why i'm still wheezing.
breathing. heavy.
i'd like to say that was my fault,
but if you hadn't refused my eyes that ONE time,
if you had only given in that ONE time,
if you had taken the universe to notice
that at one point we shared atoms,
maybe we'd still be talking.