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Give Me a Day

But let's stop that minute from happening.

By Ti AnaPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
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Give me a second. Let me learn about the crevice of your face, learn the way you raise your eyebrows when looking at me as the odd girl who tripped and luckily found her way in the center of your universe. Let me remember the way you brush your hair back when contemplating the simplicity of this moment in the glistening sun and allow me to examine the way your eyes expose the motor car of reinvigorating joy in your soul, how it drives the electric energy between us.

Give me a morning. We are paths crossed in a moment that shouldn’t have happened, but a fluke job went in our way. It’s a one in a million chance that I am waking up over and over again with the daylight in your apartment, especially when we come from far away places. We dried the water between us, even Moses feels astonished in the clouds. We shortened the land on our feet, we’ve created an emergence of pangea for our benefit.

Give me a day. When there were only 24 hours but I wished for time to stretch across fields with you. I dream in the grass that we hold hands till the sunset. You document the edges of my silhouette; I store the way you say my name like it’s a password to our own diary of laughter together.

Show me the hour. The one I may know after taking the job at the college; our practice with distance made us feel unstoppable when my next journey in life is 1600 miles from our walks in the park. It’s during a time you’re in the back of my mind, knowing the finish line to holding you is near.

But don’t give me the minute, when the fire alarm is felt in my office, when footsteps in the cafeteria are antelope in the halls of wetlands. It’s another minute in this country where I am another human who must feel their heart sink in the reality that I may not see anyone again; it’s another minute in the reality that I may not see you again.

Within this minute, I brace for the person who should have never carried an AR-15 to walk into my space and demand that every memory with you is stolen from my being. Within this minute, I sit at my desk and tell myself that it’s in my duty to not make last time’s goodbye the final one. Within this minute, there’s not much of a choice in the matter.

Within this minute, know that as a slump in my chair, the metal in my chest does not mean you were displaced by it in my heart. Know that the deep intent on remembering our days, our mornings, our seconds were already carved into the veins of my soul, not even the blood can drip them out of me.

Within this minute and beyond this time, know that although the country failed me, everything about you will successfully come with me to the other side; your beautiful face flashed in my eyes from the moment I stared at the chipped paint on the wall to the next minute of seeing wings in a tunnel of light.

Know that when breaking news mentions my name, when the tweets are spiraling for the month in the aftermath, when the country cannot fathom the solution to making sure our fate does not match another’s, our closeness in life only translated to a great proximity to me in the wind.

But also know that these directions are not to romanticize the chaos, but to rather show the world that I never want to say that memorizing our life together had to be done to prepare for an early time when I am not here. Know that I’d rather continue to spend my days in front of you instead of as a hawk onlooking in the trees. Know that if that minute ever comes, paint a warning of desperation and hell on the maps that show routes to the country. Tell all that our love is never broken, but that the politicians and the lies they brought kept us from breathing within and retaining days beyond this one.

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About the Creator

Ti Ana

Writing: surreal poetry, random thoughts, and more.

Insta: tianaishere

Wanna tell me something? Email [email protected]

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