time is relative,
or so I've heard
were you a few
years in the past while
I was falling
violently in love
with the present?
were you too busy
ripping seams of
patchwork hearts
stealing infinities from
sleepless stars
drenching faded denim
in the midnight rain
were you too busy
tracing moonbeams on
breath fogged windows
tossing rusted copper
in wishing wells
drawing broken hearts
on stolen coffee cups
were you too busy
walking blindly under
flickering moonbeams
tying dewy rainbows
into fishtail braids
tangling thrifted jewellery
against your neck
was I too busy
to see you slowly
crumbling away?