I give myself 3 minutes now, to go back to Gainesville,

To stand proudly on the sidewalk leading to your door while looking back over my shoulder at our two trucks paired together-

Together like us behind the bedroom door:
You rythmically moving inside me as I look off into space wondering silently if the words that touch my ears are real.

Now I let myself believe you, and when I listen to the first time you pronounced that love, I understand and give you my heart as if hesitation seemed too small agianst my faith in you.

2 minutes now to relish in the days when you awoke to find me beautiful, to be awakened in the early morning by the sensation of your toungue nonchalantly finding the place under the covers that will open my eyes to another day set aside for us.

I can still see myself over the stove making you breakfast, looking at you with a grin as if to say
"This is how you make a real omlette"

Except this time I let you wrap your arms around me instead of squirming out of your grasp, and when you reach for a kiss I don't turn my cheeck-
I'm meeting you half way.

But 1 minute left to convince myself to change my heart of stone
or else soon enough I'll find myself sitting with a scrap book laying over my legs looking back at you in every

glossy rectangle gazing back at me as if to try bargaining with my eyes; never appearing less than loving. Off the margins of the pages I'm elsewhere worrying about insignificant chapters in life, questioning each
word
move
and decision rather than living.

I'll confide in those who will listen but they will shake their head slowly and sound like they have practiced the line many times when they reply with,
"It seems to me you weren't ready to settle or else you would have tried harder to stay"

I'll sadly agree and hide my frown and tears in a glass of water tilting back into my mouth.
I mean, what's left? I'm out of time