The clocks don’t seem to tick in our favor and you like to pretend that
Well, Tomorrow, they will
Because things like Tomorrow work out for people like us,
Who drown in misery, deep enough to appreciate it when it lends itself.
I don’t know about your philosophies-
About your addictions, your comings and goings and ghostlike tremors;
I don’t know about your sleepless nights and the extent that your honesty extends;
I don’t know about the patterns of stars that live in the deep blues of your eyes,
Or about the infinities that lie behind your expressions-
But I do know that you will love me gently no matter where I go
Even if it is without you.