It has been proven by minds much finer than mine that time is, in fact, linear. However, I am allowed to hope it is not, but it is as the Toltec imagined - circular.
I am not headed towards another day of sunshine wearing thin over long hours. I am not to fall asleep tonight in another of a long series of whispering linens, but instead am bounding ceaselessly towards your ripe voice skipping across my bare shoulder.
Not away, you see, I'm returning to your desperate hands clasped across my back, your warm sleeping form beside me. I will once again find myself in the crossfire of gently lobbed words so like watered silk, curl beneath a flickering clock spelling out the hours until you find me in the dark.
Soon time will circle back on itself and you'll find me. Find me again.
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