Totti Di Natale Maldini

By Yosh

in eight grade when you handed me a sheet of paper with serrated edges 

and the impression of chemistry notes still visible on its surface

unfolding six folds that never met at the corners 

i saw scribbled across the paper 

numbers in ascending order

two years

731 days

17544 hours

and 1052640 minutes 

the precision within your characteristic scribbles 

made me wonder why you stopped there

 

because i wasn't ready for the numbers to stop increasing 

and even after 6 years every second adds a little something

because every year is made up of weeks 

spent waiting for your exams to get over so we could be together for a few hours

and ever hour is made up of minutes

in traffic that seem to disappear when the music on the radio is a reminder of insisting to drop you home 

even when you swore it's just two kilometres 

and every minute is made up of seconds within which you respond

of seconds within which i predict your replies before you respond 

and every second is made up of moments that seem infinitesimally small

of moments that seem infinitesimally long 

who says time travel doesn't exist 

every i love you takes me back to the first time you said it 

to the first time i said it 

without knowing what it meant 

but knowing what it meant 

was not necessary to know 

to fall in love with you 

 

so after these next few months

when the hands on our clocks don't follow the same paths anymore 

when your minutes won't match my seconds anymore 

will they still be made up of enough love 

to twist into our own time zone 

where the sun and moon meet across horizons 

will my alarm still ring every evening to wake you up in the morning 

will i learn to eat breakfast while you're cooking dinner 

so we have at least one meal in a day together 

will your sleepy arms still hold me closer when i'm crying at night 

will you still be the first one to wish me happy birthday both times

will time still be playing on our side?

 

i don't know 

but i don't think time passes for us like it does for everyone else 

because time feels different when we're together 

time feels slow 

like the time you thought i was a dream when i surprised you at home 

time feels soft 

like the time i told you to propose to me inside a pillow fort 

time tastes sweet and salty 

like the time i cut my finger trying to bake cupcakes for you 

time sounds like it has an accent 

like the time you made me believe that the name of an italian football player meant i love you

and totti di natale maldini 

might not mean i love you 

but in the time that we've been together 

i know that everything you've said to me 

has meant i love you

and if language bent before us 

who's to say time won't too? 


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