I counted the steps between my block and yours.
One hundred and forty-seven.
One hundred and forty seven steps between my block and yours.
I held five daffodils in my hand that leaned a little too much to the left, and looked a little too much like French’s Mustard.
I picked them from the dirt by Fifteenth Street, approximately seventy-three steps from your block.
It has taken me so far, thirty-three minutes to walk from my block to yours.

And I wished that I had taken the longer route.
I have counted two hundred and seven steps between my block and yours
and I also calculated how long it took me to fall in indefinite love with you.
An indefinite, dull, painful love that eats away underneath my ribcage.
It took me three years, two months, and eleven days to realize how long it took me to fall in love with you

Now, I have walked around the block three times, and shredded the mustard petals.
I watched the daffodils cry as I smeared their wet petals far into the opaque concrete--
they screamed underneath my sandals.

And now it is three o’clock and seven minutes, and you still aren’t home,
and probably won’t come home.
It has taken me five minutes and forty-seven seconds to realize I miss you.