strange,
like standing still on the freeway during stopped traffic,
lasting long enough to find stones in the concrete,
something you assume will always be moving at 70 miles per hour
underneath your feet.
startling,
like when your heart skips a beat as you sleepily turn the page,
lasting long enough to catch your breath and pat your chest,
something you expect will beat 70 times per minute
underneath your ribs.
sticky,
like the glue left on your hands after an impromptu craft session,
lasting long enough to take the ache out of an afternoon alone,
something you hoped would dry in 70 seconds like it says
underneath the label.
still,
i'd rather be stopped, skipped and stuck and know how it feels,
lasting long enough to know i need you here,
than to assume, expect and hope you'd return to me every second,
every minute of all 7 days.