i know

like you, i say
what, you say
the picture you sent me, i say
(insert picture taken from your phone of a field somewhere at 4:57am california time)
why, you say
i'm coming with you, i say
where, you say
everywhere, i reply
we're stuck. like a sun on the horizon. moving but always right there.
you're right, you say
i know
i know

and as your driving shift comes to an end and your head finally finds the pillow that cushions your rambling dreams you tell me you're going to bed
you ask, what are you going to do now
i'm gonna meet you in a blizzard
see you there
i'll bring your hat
i'll bring hugs
i'm taking a kiss for you in my pocket
always
always always
you ask me, who is this
(so sweetful and play-like)
your sun
(so honest and true-like)
oh

i am your sun and you are my soft love poem
but what happened before
before we met, i'm sure of it that the sun was still present
there was still light, still darkness
or was there
did we not pay attention as much
and these soft love poems
were they not written but for other lover's at a different time
will they not be written for future lover's during the reveal of this same sun
i suppose
i suppose it is constant
it was
and it will be

can you marry this thought for a moment and help me ponder the meaning
i know
you can't
let's just keep texting