How they spread up into my hands
Dissipate like water beads sprinkling across my skin
I like how your twisted tongue turns poetry into song
With verses that don’t rhyme
I like
How you lace my drinks with antiquity
Quiet my sobs with ecstasy
And paint them as honesty
Your lips keep all of them contained within me
Sealed with the kiss of your disdain
I like it when these things take my being
Twist it into tangles of hope and fear
Drop the knot make it hold tight while falling
I like commanding over risks
Jumping out of a plane landing on my feet
Playing publicly after plotting carefully
I seek control over the unknown
Find it while diving deep
Feeling more power with every sinking failure
The internet serves as a record of my friends
Dwindling with each year
When you realize you’re too warm
And too lazy to take off your jacket
It’s the feeling of someone walking too close
There are the conversations you overhear
Not unwelcome, but uncomfortable
You wonder if you should slow your pace
but no matter what you’re both in stride
Empty Coat Pockets
An old grandfather clock
The pendulum sways
The hands tick and click
Stealing the days away
Too few minutes
In a day
Too few days
In a week
Too few weeks
In a month
Too few months
In a year
Too few years
In a decade
Too few decades
In a century
So little time
To do all and everything
Staring at the clock
But you can’t capture the hands
In that coat pocket
Too long
Too short
Too fast
Too slow
How long has it been?
Where did the times go?
Has it really been that long?
I remember it like it was yesterday.
The timing feels so wrong.
Graying and sagging by the second
Death’s deadline closes in
Quietly
At your bedside
Realizing the minutes and days
Have slipped away
All the memories you never made
All of the times you didn’t stay
All of the words you never prayed
And you couldn’t take the clock’s hands
In your coat pockets
Hold them close and dear
So instead
In your bed
You lay in fear
As the grandfather clock’s chime
Rings near
To claim your final breath.
