I know.

Life
is not withholding me
from you,
or you
from me.

It is only
calling us both
at the same time.

You,
whenever you can,
try to find me.

I
wait a little longer
where I think
your voice will fall.

You do not
love less.

Neither
do I.

You
give up hours
from your night.

I,
from my day.

One of us
leans on the moon.

The other
on the sun.

Under the same sky,
walking in the same direction,
we keep arriving
late to each other.

You told me
you had not slept.

I
never told you
about the evening
growing in my eyes.

It turns out
evening
has been coming
a little earlier
every day.

Now that I think of it…

You
brought me hours
borrowed from the moon.

I
quietly carried
the light
the sun had lost.

We both walked
the same road
toward each other.

Only,
along the way,
we could not see
how weary
the other had become.

Maybe…

One day,
to recognize
in the eyes
across from you
a weariness
never spoken.