transcendent

sweet song of her voice in my ear

accelerating the hands of the clock

right back

words of death

holding two mystery boxes

contents unknown

impossible to predict

wait, or move on

inevitably I choose poorly

worst part is that i deserve it

connecting dots that shouldn't be

scripting scenes from another show

transcendent chemistry

though she's art

and i'm history

there is no amount of wanting

that turns this into science

still carrying the boxes

decision time

box not chosen tucked away

inside an incredible night

fulfilled needs

instead i sit with a stopwatch

ticking down

but the numbers not decreasing

another night

condemned myself to hope

wait

the most lush of couches

rather uncomfortable alone

a lifelong student

who never manages to learn