Scrolling Instagram, a post read,

‘Take me back to the first night we met’

Thinking to myself how there isn’t anyone I’d want to meet again,

You stepped through the door, walked across my mind’s stage.

Meeting me in a duvet fort, engraved with sweaty endless smiles.

Caught like a lily pad floating at the top of my throat,

Imagining what it would be like to re-experience our first scene,

Draped over the sofa,

Like the silhouette of two butterflies

Fluttering nude, laughing.

I kissed you.

I can hear the pages turning

as this half-opened book dangles through my chest,

Like a sinking weight into my heart from shoulder to shoulder.

I’ll never forget you.

My feet hit the ground full force. Dodging people and hopping over puddles I only have two more minutes or else I will miss the train. It feels nearly impossible to make it but there isn’t time for thoughts such as this. If I had just left sooner. If I hadn’t gone back inside to look just one more time. As I arrived the train departed as if my presence was a slingshot for its synchronistic absence. Drops of rain hit my forehead. The further the train moved from me the more breath I regained. What once felt like a sinking feeling quickly morphed into relief. Suddenly I felt like I had more time. I didn’t have to go just yet. I could be right where I am. Right here. Right now.

No matter where you were going, now you have time to be wherever you already are.