Every day I wake up in a world,
Momentarily inhabited by you.
Then my stupid muscle memory kicks in,
Queuing my arms to reach out to bring you,
Against your protestations,
Into my embrace, custom fit for you.
Unfortunately for me,
And many others so accursed,
That time yields for no person,
(Constantly clocks keep count)
So I remember mid-reach,
In a manner so naive to be foreign,
That you can’t be there,
To love or reject me,
Console or annnoy;
You can’t be there at all.