Time is not a concept,
it’s a preconception
created by people that have never felt
love.

Or, so I always believed.

Now, I sit awake every night
thinking about our expiration date,
the day to which we
meet a bitter demise.

A demise devised by
a whole world around us,
a world that will
never see the shrink sticker stuck.

The ticking won’t stop
on the time bomb of us,
as we leap, crawl, roll, dart
to our expiration date.

We can’t stop rolling,
faster down this path
to a little place that
will be our personal hell.

A hell that we believe in,
a hell that he is counting on,
a hell that hath its fury,
a hell that I am dreading.

Yet, everyday I take your hand,
kiss your fingers,
caress your lips,
and stare at the brilliance that is your eyes

in an attempt to forget
our expiration
date.

I hit the headrest of my friend’s car
more than the pillow on my bed
as the traffic light turns
from yellow to red.

I remember what you said about
The eagle and the **** that are
Coming down at me.
You said forget about the words in your head.

You said you were proud of me
That was enough to get me on my feet
You said you were proud of me
that was enough to make me happy.

“You can’t get what I don’t have,”
And everything in between.
It gets better but it doesn’t get easier
You have to make sense of what it means

They say it’s darkest before the dawn
But the daylight haunts you before it’s gone
I know I’ve got you to get me through
The night that feels so long.

There’s not enough time in a day
to tell you how much I’m really grateful for you.
How you kept me alive
and how you taught me to turn the tides.

You talk about pills.
The right combination,
Down them so easy,
Death comes so quickly.

You talk about razors.
The way they glide across your skin,
How much you love the pain,
The deadly scars
the cold metal leaves behind.

You talk about happiness,
And your lack thereof.
And I wonder what I can ever do
To make you feel genuinely happy.

You talk about hate.
How you feel your family
Doesn’t like you,
So why should anyone else?

You talk about pain.
How there’s so much of it.
You keep it bottled inside.
Pressure on your skull.

You talk about death.
And how if you weren’t
Afraid of the pain,
You’d be gone by now.