Maybe my heartbeat always synchronizes
with the clock on your bedroom wall because
it’s always waiting for something.
for the final goodbye, wrapped in doubt and regret
and sealed with a halfhearted kiss, the hollow remnants
of something once so full.
perhaps the silence in waiting for your reply
is the root of my fear; the several moments
when i hold my breath
while you measure yours,
weighing the words between your teeth that could so easily
crush the walls i spent years building up, heightening with
every pause, every hesitation, every instance that held
even the slightest possibility for all of it to come
crashing down again.