This clock, you see,

strikes a dozen times

not one more

not one less

This clock, you see,

sings its song

in the dead of night

at 3am

This clock, you see,

strikes out with

nobody

to listen

This clock, you see,

is the

last

living soul

This clock, you see,

survived.

It survived a war.

A war that

flattened

destroyed

obliterated

the world around it

This clock, you see,

is the single

flicker

of hope

This clock, you see,

embodies hope

courage

strength

This clock, you see,

stands alone

in the house

that is left in ruins

This clock, you see,

strikes for

no audience

but the birds

This clock, you see,

survived and

so can you

my darling.

It’s been a while since I have seen you. Days, weeks, months have gone by. Three hundred twelve days. Forty six weeks. Ten months, to be exact. My heart aches to feel the way I felt that night.

We are so similar, yet so different. You are the travelling cowboy, who spends his summers at the rodeos riding bulls. I am the small town girl, the daughter of a rancher. We are from the smallest towns, neither are populated over 3,000. You have travelled our country extensively, having been on a plane once. I have travelled this world extensively, having been on more planes than road trips. We are two of kind, yet one in the same.

The way we looked at eachother across the yard, it was just like a movie. After the rodeo, my best friend had a birthday party. You happened to follow a mutual friend. That’s when I saw you for the first time. You had a beer in your hand, your hat was crooked, and you had a purple shirt on. We sat and talked for hours. We left to go on the swings at the park beside the house. We talked about everything. You actually listened, which made my heart leap out of my chest. We walked back to the party and you introduced me to your friends. Your friends cheered and clapped when you finally kissed me. You kissed me in front of everyone. That was when I knew. No one had kissed me with an audience before, let alone a rowdy high school party full of our friends.

Do you remember staying up until 5am just to get to know eachother? Do you remember the butterflies when you kissed me? Do you remember when I ran away to my friend, because I had never kissed a cowboy infront of anyone? Do you remember how I didn’t care and ran back into your arms? Do you remember the way our arms always found their way back to eachother? I do. I remember thinking, “This could be it. He could be my greatest adventure. He could be the love of my life. He might be the one that got away.”

You are the greatest love of my life that never happened. Maybe this June, we will remember eachother. You will remember how I cried when I left. I will remember the potential. The potential that we can be the greatest love story in the world. Two small town dreamers who live nine hours apart. How wonderful is it to think that we could have had it?

I am not in love with you. However, I could be. I could have been so undeniably and unconditionally in love with you. I still could be. The way my skin lit aflame when you touched my bare arm was no coincidence. Or, the way my heart leaps, my lungs catch, my body shivers, when I see the one photograph we have together. Was it a one time, heart bursting night that we will remember for the rest of our lives? Or, will it be the night a love story begins? The night we tell our children when they ask how we met? Will we have the most beautiful, intreicate, amazing, sincere relationship? Or, was our potential mean to be contained to one night?

Well, cowboy, here is to us. Here is to the greatest love I never had. Here is to the night that brought us together. Here is to hoping we remember. Until then cowboy, you are the one that got away.