The Day That Breathes Backwards

i found a minute under my pillow it didn’t tick it listened the clock is wearing different shoes today walking tuesday back into monday i wave at people who haven’t happened yet and you are here, but also on the way my pockets hum with unfinished thoughts and half a second without a name i sip from a cup that remembers me but forgets why i came tick tick - pause silence trips on time i breathe in what has already been and out what’s still in line backwards, backwards, the day inhales me i stand still while your words pass through me if you meet tomorrow dressed as yesterday tell it i was never really there backwards, backwards, we fall up slow into a memory that let itself go i hear your name inside a hollow phrase but it never starts where it begins the walls whisper in subtitles no one ever wrote down i read them out in a language that only exists when we drown there’s a crack in the fabric of now and something like light starts to grow i reach my hand carefully through it and touch a version of you i don’t know i / you / we / between living inside a sentence that never meets its end the minute beneath my pillow is gone but i still hear it breathe it counts me instead of the other way around