I am your broken sentence. That thought you never got to finish because something interesting caught your eye on a TV in an electronic store window.
That walk you've been meaning to take with yourself. That time you've been meaning to spend with someone special. That beautiful moment that probably won't ever happen now.
I guess it doesn't matter in the long run. But you're far too quick to shrug me off.
I'm the defining moment in your revelation as you travel upstream next to pilot fish with broken lights. I am you in transit. I'm everywhere you've ever wanted to go.
I'm every place you've ever wanted to see. Every mountain, every virtually endless sea, every green field in Ireland, every sprawling technological marvel in Japan.
But you can't seem to see past your ocean eyes. I guess they're virtually endless too. And you're far too quick to agree with me.
I'm the missing button on your favourite shirt, the one that seems to escape from every button-up shirt you own. I'm the words you're afraid to say because so many people have said the same words
to you so often and so loud and so fake that your ear drums might die from suspense. I'm that idea for a personalized license plate that you've had since the tenth grade that you swear you're really
gonna get one day. I guess I'm long winded these days. But you're far too quick to stop reading.
I am everything you could ever want. And I don't even know you.
