To My Unidentified Love Interest (insert name here)

I'm a poet. It's what I do.
So let's have a conversation.

First, to you. Unnamed. The offer stands —
"Oh, all right, stay. You've got my attention.
Oh, all my pain is bottled affection.
I see the weapons; I pulled out;
I met my match, so why am I so proud?"
Dress it up with a steady walk and a pair of blue eyes, and who can resist? —

Then, to You. Indescribable. The answer evades —
"I'm not the same kid. I grew up.
Didn't I? Or did I get stuck?"
Stargazing is like time travel.
There are places where I was a person.
But I go back and find that the edges of my heart are too far to reach at lightspeed —

I feel I am redshifting.
I think of you through the watches of the night.
Here you go, a handful of flatlined words. Courtesy of your lost nomad.

Save me.