I wonder

Sometimes I look to the North, in your general direction, and I wonder if it's lonely on that side of the universe.

We used to think distance didn't matter - physical distance, anyways. we claimed we could travel far enough and fast enough, more important than any pretty thing like time. I used to think I was smart, answering questions with ten-letter words that had small meanings. I talked big, but had a small heart; After all, you were the only thing inside it. It's funny, because I used to be so sure. Now, I'm just another question mark at the end of a rising infection, another thing that wasn't meant to be. (and yes, I happened anyways.)

You used to say you never made mistakes, and I used to contradict you. Then, one day you turned around and admitted it. "Fine," you said. "I'm not perfect. I make mistakes, too. but I hardly ever do." Then you couldn't look me in the eye anymore and found company in the comforting, stable concrete. "Maybe you were my only mistake," you concluded.

On nights like these, I wish I could climb up on the roof - where we used to spend our loneliest nights - and wonder.

I wonder if you lie awake at night like me. I wonder if the ticking clock haunts you like it used to before I came along. I wonder if you're all digital now, if you've thrown out your old grandfather clock. I wonder if you look at clocks and feel time slipping through your fingers like love, lost. It's only natural.

I can imagine you now, tangled up in sheets like reverse metamorphosis; You're the caterpillar, darling, once beautiful, now lovely. I can imagine you looking to the South, in my general direction, and wondering if it's lonely on this side of the universe.

Then again, I always did have an active imagination. You told me that was a curse. I've yet to believe you.

It's more than likely you are fine, curled up by the window with a book about sex, your dog curled up at your feet. It's more than likely that you are looking forwards to the weekend, looking forward to getting out and moving away. You do not care for clocks, or time - nothing is more petty, and you are not so shallow.

I can imagine you getting ready to go out, games put away and parents asleep. You don't have a care in the world anymore, and you couldn't care less about this side of the world. Who could blame you? It feels so far, you think, and if I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind. It's simple as that. you are not so complex, anymore. You're weak and I've got you figured out.

It is more than likely that you are fine, and are not looking my way, wondering if it's lonely on this side of the word. Still, I wonder.