Vivisection of a Moment  in Time

She looses her words in the moonlit woods—
I cannot bear to be the recipient.  
"I guess I just don't know how to be single."  
As the loam pads our naked bodies,  
holding us up like a pedestal: proud of our nakedness.  
Infatuated with our newfound power  
to bare ourselves to nobody and feel like it's to everybody.  
  
Those words, sliding among the whisper sighs of leaves  
like the very breezes themselves.  
My heart knots for her.  
"I'm just so confused."  
  
Not confused, poor girl—your heart long since fallen in line with the truths  
your brain can only hope to achieve. One day, yes. But not now.  
The ripples and folds and shadows of those simple truths  
are only ever laid flat by time.  
That simple act of waiting: time marches along unperturbed by all  
yet waiting is the most difficult act to perform.  
  
But then why, oh heart of mine, do you tear as well?  
The truths in her heart are well-matched by the truths in my mind;  
you should not hurt.  
But sometimes the heart stabs and bleeds  
when your head concludes nothing can be done  
for this flickering flame curled pitifully against you in the night,  
yet your heart decries all defeat:  
it has built a bridge to her soul  
and if hers slips into the void, yours follows.  
  
Time is at a standstill for these few hours  
where the night encapsulates our bodies and the trees shush out our voices.  
But that is all we ask for—a moment of fortressed respite from the world.  
  
"I'm just so confused," she whispers again for tear-stained emphasis.  
Confused is when your heart is screaming something  
that your mind does not yet understand.