moment

all you get is a moment.
if you are lucky.
a moment, and you continue your life, never seeing the big picture.
you get these moments in your life,
you get enough to last you your entire life.
tiny moments,
cute and nostalgic at times,
spread far and wide,
few and far in between.
you get enough that you think that a moment is forever.
but it never is.
the moment goes,
it fades,
it dies.
like a fire.
burning strong and powerful,
reduced to ashes and smoke the next day.
the heart is such an organ of fire.
it takes over your entire being.
all your emotions are out in the open,
exposed,
you show too much of yourself,
you're vulnerable,
you're an open book,
anyone can get to you.
and, at the most perfect moment in your entire life,
someone does.
inside, and under and beneath everything that you took for granted,
everything that you forgot you had and knew about yourself and life and others,
this someone comes in and gets to you.
he gets to you and you are never the same.
he turns your world inside out,
upside down,
round and round.
he comes in and settles in.
takes his shoes off,
props his feet up on the coffee table,
walks around the house half-naked.
he settles in.
cooking meals,
sharing a pint of ice cream,
watching the sunrise.
he walks in and comes into your life and you are never the same.
ever.
there's your moment.
lived so complete and true at one point,
but destined to be lost in time,
slowly fading from your memory,
dying bit by bit,
your memories,
you,
gone,
forever.
he comes in and destroys your entire world.
what you are is a past tense.
you spend years building this routine,
this pattern,
this life of yours.
you spend years in comfort,
knowing exactly what to expect from each day that passes.
you work,
you eat,
you go home.
For a while you begin to think that that's enough to live.
you spend years putting everything in place.
your furniture,
your clothes,
your car.
years upon years upon years of hard work,
making sure that everything goes according to plan.
your plan.
you spend years feeling safe and secure.
you're thinking,
nothing can break this.
nothing can destroy what I've built around me.
castle.
fortress.
sanctuary.
then it happens.
a moment.
one moment.
the moment.
one beautiful person walks into the same office you're in,
or the same bar or the same elevator.
one moment ago,
you had a perfect life.
then this person,
this one little person,
walks in with a smile and his eyes on you and you can't move.
you can't speak.
your chest tightens.
you begin to sweat.
you have uncontrollable fevers,
your mouth becomes dry.
your world that you spent years and years and years fixing and building and protecting,
gone in one moment.
and nothing is ever,
ever the same.