Because Time Is A Fickle Bitch

It's never our time.

You love me as I'm running away,
while we're both caught up in toying with the devil.

Until one night when,
in a drunken stupor,
we'll do too many drugs and make love on the kitchen floor;
And later in the early morning light,
amidst a cloud of white sheets,
before I revert to my own ways as if it had never happened.

Then I'll leave,
and I'll be here and you'll be there;
A couple thousand miles doesn't seem so far,
but you'll meet someone else and it'll break my heart.

I know.

Then I won't move on,
not for months.
And I'm sure I'll think about you every night,
but won't tell you so unless I'm drunk;
Those hazy moments when all eloquence has fallen away.

I'll meet somebody,
some day,
just as your relationship disintigrates right in front of you;
Again, the timing will be wrong.

But I'll think about you, sometimes,
when I'm trying to fall asleep with him and I know that something is missing,
because he'll sleep on his side,
turned away from me, every night.
And you might dream about me in the mornings when you're alone,
or maybe in the company of somebody I don't know.

And months later I'll see you
and we may spend the time as we used to:
Staying up all night and listening to sad music
and making fun of each others bad habits;
or we may spend it as we've dreamt of:
Staying up all night and listening to sad music
before kissing and giving in,
falling asleep together, waking up together, drinking and dancing together.

But it won't last.
I'll go my way and you'll go yours,
at least for now, at least one more time.