Mis-Matched

Your mornings are my evenings,
it's when you sleep and I awake.
Your breakfasts are my dinners,
it's when you eat and I stay hungry.
Your writing is when I think,
it's when you prosper and I observe.
Whenever we meet
a breeze seems to pass between us
and for a moment
we blink
and wonder,
what are we even
doing
with
each
other...