Out of Time

Out of Time

 

The prognosis isn’t good; still, you continue to dance

Exuberantly

Cha-cha-cha! Never skipping a beat

Your inner clock runs fast

Nobody else hears

That deafening metronome

Tick

 

Tock

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Linger

When you left, the world seemed emptier

Wider, somehow

You used to tell me not to touch

Your things when you were gone

I found that so strange

and morbid

But now I understand.

You wanted to live on, for me

And now you do.

I step into your room

And your scent assails me

I cannot seem to stop

The liquid ache rising in my throat

When I touch

the things you touched

When I read

the things you wrote.

Beyond the mist of my tears

I look around,

And inhale your space

You were right when you told me

not to touch your things

Because you’d be back

to linger in this place.