your clock still reads 11:45
we looked that morning
you might have been late
you weren’t late. you were ours

will it still read 11:45 in a year?
i wonder
you ask what i am thinking
i am thinking of my bed
his arms around me
i am thinking of my bed
no longer mine

add this to my
insurmountable list
of why’s

there will never be a because

of all i have lost in
seven weeks
seven months
insurmountable