I've always contested this theory of time.
This counting of sands in hourglass bottles.
They always said time was in our hands.
But I didn't mind because the sun always rose, always set.
I never yearned to stop it. I never yearned to stay.
Until I met you.
Until I found myself in your arms in the morning till dawn
and it never felt long enough.
Until the words that made me melt into puddles formed time tables that showed a past moment I never wanted to escape from.
From the falling of snow, to the falling of leaves.
The hands on clocks were slowly gripping us by the shoulders;
tearing us apart.
Wars with the one thing we couldn't defeat.
Until kisses could hold time for a moment, we could never get enough.
Inserting coins into machines so that maybe hope
could fall out of the slot into our empty palms.
Once the days got shorter as the air grew cold,
we had to dig up for good memories to keep us holding.
Your skin had already been traced by my fingers,
your lips had already been pressed into mine.
there was nothing keeping us together other than not wanting
to wake up alone at the sound of beeping alarms.
To wake up calls tellings us that life doesn't stop for anyone.
The cold coffee that tastes as bitter as remembering the battle with passing minutes.
Some battles are meant to be lost.
We lost this one, we were left with learnt lessons.
I never bargained for lessons in the first place, I wanted to be left with you.
Wars are temporary. We we're supposed to be forever.
But once again, forever is controlled by ticking hands.
And ours were never strong enough to resist it.

Loving you was mistaking a welcome mat for an eviction notice and never knowing where to turn. It was stepping into empty rooms with white walls and never feeling more at home. Legend always had it that if you stare into broken mirrors you risk seeing yourself dead, loving you was staring into your eyes and getting the same result. My mother always told me that evil can disguise itself into everything you've ever wanted, I finally understood what she meant when I would watch you fall asleep and start calling out someone else's name. Sometimes I still hear your voice resonating off the walls and it sounds a lot like the door slamming on the day you left. Loving you had me digging graves inside flower gardens because I kept anticipating the mornings I'd find myself buried in dirt instead of in my sheets next to you. Loving you was putting suicide notes and love letters into the same envelope and sending them to address's of empty houses. Maybe someday they'll end up at my door again. Maybe someday you'll come back again. Maybe I die too soon to see the day. I don't know how the story ends. All I know is that I've swallowed a pill for every flower that died on "he loves me not", and right now laying six feet in the ground feels more guarded than your arms ever did.

Somewhere, right now, soulmates are meeting.
Somewhere, right now, lovers are departing.
Somewhere right now, a lonely man is sipping the last drops of his fifth bottle.
Somewhere, a daughter is watching her father drive away for the last time.
Somewhere a little boy sits with a therapist locking words under his tongue.
Somewhere a blade is being introduced to raw flesh.
Somewhere, right now a young life is being put in the ground, with a psychiatrist pondering at what he could have done to save her.
Somewhere right now, pettles are being ripped from flowers by hearts wondering if they're loved.
Somewhere right now a nurse is changing the sheets on what used to be a death bed.
Somewhere right now, a ship is sinking into the bottom of deep waters that don't promise revival.
Somewhere right now someone is crying out to a God who doesn't exist to listen.
Somewhere right now hands are being held in the back of churches in remembrance of loved ones gone.
Somewhere a song is playing that brings tears to the eyes of ones who haven't lived long enough to feel.
Somewhere letters are being sent to houses that are vacant.
Somewhere doors are being shut in the faces of those who have never known what its like to crave loneliness.
Somewhere there are all these things.
I'm here, you're there.
I don't know where there is; but its lucky to have you.

It's been months.
I've been bearing the weight of emptiness.
The absence of color on the walls and lipstick stains on post it notes I used to leave you.
The comfort i find in darkness is only there because light shows a world without you and its one I don't want to see.
Going back to the past is like a train ride with no destination on tracks made up of un-kept promises.
I'm sorry that I keep apologizing for still loving you.
I'm sorry that I keep waking up shaking in the middle of night, choking for air as I call out your name.
I'm sorry I still look for your face in the midst of crowded sidewalks.
I tried writing you a letter last night to explain to you the agony of living in this emptiness, but the pen broke, spilled ink on the page and I think it said more than my words ever will.
Despite the fact that you left me on the verge of breaking, I hope you're happy.
I hope that every cigarette you put between your lips knows how lucky it is to be there.
I haven't kissed you in months, but I'll never forget the way you taste.
I'll never forget the way I loved you when my named would roll off your tongue.
Nor the way it feels to be wanted by someone who could make love sound so bitter sweet.

Its uncontrollable.
The way people end up in our lives
The way people show up at the end of our lives.
The way people end our lives.
You were all three.
You walked in through the door I saved for someone I thought might be able to love me; the door with a welcome matt that looked more like a warning sign.
You walked in on the side of me that was only meant to be seen by the reflection I find in the mirror
Empty prescription bottle, empty liquor, empty heart.
And with the seconds passing I realized you came too late to have a chance at saving a life that I never got to live.
You try to turn back the clocks to see if I was better off before you came.
But time is a measure we convince ourselves has the power to change things.
Nothing can change other than the arrow on the circular board that points towards a past I can't seem to escape from.
Every breath is forced at this point.
So were my last few years.
The door was always open.
You just showed up too late.

Are you blind?
You're back on the conveyer belt, again.
You're fooled by that you see, again.
You seem to be getting closer but you're drifting further away.
You see hope on the horizon which turns to agony as soon as you get close enough to reach it.
You're heart is breaking at the thought of struggle
You're depending on the bottle, again.
The guzzle is burning your throat as you swallow any chance at revival.
Fingers turn to black, lips turn to black, mind turns to black.
You're crumbling with the ashes of cigarettes
There's no rebuilding broken debris anymore.
Hope is sunken beaneath you as you lay drunk on the floor.
Miles away from the conveyer belt, again.
No going back to where you're headed.
No heads or tails to change the situation.
No more gods willing to listen.
Its over.
Don't inhale.
Life wasted at the thought of making it
but giving up when you get a chance to escape your mind.
No press play, fast forward, rewind.
No more hands helping you out the gutter
You're already buried six feet too deep.
Your hands are on your mouth, again
Trying to quiet your screams.
No ones listening
No ones wondering
No ones there.
You've created this hell for yourself;
just lock the door as you leave.