Two Time Zones

Steam from the kettle fogs the window
Your text arrives: Soundcheck ran long
Here, the news plays low, I fold your hoodie on the chair
Counting the clicks of the heater
Your noon is my midnight, the calendar won’t agree
I trace the ring your cup left on the table

Signal drags, we talk between the static
Saying so much with a breath and a pause

Two time zones, one table
I keep your place like you’ll walk in later
You’re far away, but this ache sits near
Leaning on me like a quiet roommate
I pour two cups, one cools untouched
Until your voice climbs through the speaker

This ache is near, you are far
This ache is near, you are far

You send a photo: Plastic stool, lime wedges, soft noodles
Motorbikes weaving, rain beading your sleeve
I send you mine: Elevator mirror, grocery bags
A bus card pressed flat in a wallet
We trade our days like postcards
Every corner bent by the miles

I talk to the gap that sits between us
It answers with clocks that never align

Two time zones, one table
I keep your place like you’ll walk in later
You’re far away, but this ache sits near
Leaning on me like a quiet roommate
I pour two cups, one cools untouched
Until your voice climbs through the speaker

Let’s keep the rituals: Your worn gray tee on my pillow
My playlist in your headphones before the set
When dawn finds me and your evening begins
We meet in a small square on the screen and call it the same room

Two time zones, one table
I keep your place like you’ll walk in later
You’re far away, but this ache sits near
Leaning on me like a quiet roommate
I pour two cups, one cools untouched
Until your voice climbs through the speaker

(Two time zones, one table)
(Two time zones, one table)
Two time zones, one table, this ache stays near