On this same morning two years ago,
I lost you
I can feel the air leaving my lungs all over again

Or it was five years ago now on this exact Tuesday that we met, but you have forgotten and I have not
I will never forget that you forgot

Or on this very day, what feels like too many years ago, I was born. And there are candles
lit and there are people singing but my mind is not here with them and it is asking,
How many days like this do I have left?

Or next year I will be better.
I’ll start over, in January, and I will spend the rest of this one with my head down and wishing
there were a button that could push June into December and bring about, once again, the next rotation of the Earth.
Because I’ll get the next round right.

Why is this how we perceive our lives?
As if time is repeating itself
Like we’re caught in some loop that never ends until we do.
There is no overlap
There are no years, or months, or weeks.
There is no reset button pressed each time we finish circling our sun
There is only now, and tomorrow
and yesterday.