the clock is running low on time
and the strained drip! drip! of
the hourglass is slowing to a halt.
this fleeting feeling is watching
you drain through my fingertips and
me unable to grasp enough of anything
to hold on to the real you. its
mocking and laughing as i close my
fist around the thin air, pulling
pain into my lungs and blowing out
some twisted, milky mixture. and
now my clenched fist is entwined in
your bloody shirt and as the blood
runs down my arm i see it too is
pulsating inside me. you're killing
me with your gentle kiss, soft flesh
against cold cheek as you plant
another fresh one where a bruise from
the last still resides. the only wasted
time is that spent without you and it
seems that i am only putting on more
years with every flutter of innocent
eyelids without the simultaneous
beatings of lovers' hearts. and if
the clocks do stop with every kiss,
i can only hope to steal enough time
to bask in you, forever.

04/19/2004

Author's Note: blahblahblah

Posted on 04/19/2004
Copyright © 2026 Lauren Pearl