We talk like hands on different clocks
Close, but bound to miss the knocks
Your words arrive a beat too late
Still, I wait—I hesitate
Clockwise distance, slow and near
We orbit close but never clear
The time we lost was never wrong
We just stayed quiet too long
You sip, I nod, then silence grows
Like time itself already knows
Your truth ticks softly in delay
You don’t explain, you drift away
Still I trace your rhythm's curve
And wonder if I lost my nerve