don’t remind me

that the sun goes and comes,

that she has lived a million lifetimes,

will live a million more,

but even her time will come.

i don’t think about

how time springs forward

then collapse into a single-point

because i might just think of

a woman ages ago who shares my face,

and perhaps my dreams,

who has cried in the very way i do now

but has lived regardless.

i don’t know her

but we are tied

infinitely, in a beauty i only find

when i think of parallel lines,

inches apart, that never

ever touch.