Imagine how utterly terrifying would the whole universe be if there was a faceless clock.
Just faceless clocks.

That dictated the way earth shall be lived in the most minimalistic sense.

No hour hand, no tinks, no tick-tocks and no numbers.
That will allow us to regretfully or mercifully go on.

The gears and everything are in place.
But there is
nothing.

Just silence that will deafen your ears.
Silence that your screams cannot pierce.

Yes, that is me now.
I have no bearing, no sure sense.
Simply lost.

*Tick-tock.

Truth is, I have this tiny vestige of a daydream.

Where, I postulate and wistfully theorise that the heart's volume is infinite.

Its depths are unknown.

For its an empty oblivion; patiently waiting to be
filled, filled and filled.

And, you prove that.
*Every. Single. Day.

It is shocking, bewildering when someone special kisses your skin with their fingertips.

It is like everything that they ever wished to say is said, whispered right into your soul.

Dissolving, permeating slowly through the layers and walls you have built.

And when your fingertips dances across it, in that instant, the world's momentum ceases.
Time metaphorically tinkles backwards and there you are.

With him.

Your head blissfully at the crook of his neck. One hand laced with his.

And that's when you know.

Your heart is his.

And his heart is yours.

Seems like anything that will tickle the corner of my mouth upwards or downwards simply walks straight into me.

Unannounced and unanticipated perfection of untitled somethings.

And before you know, I've caught you in my arms.

*Just
like
that.

Those moments where you feel like time and whatever makes up that infinite momentum is suspended.

The whispers and loud susurrations of the world fall into silence and that the only sounds that permeate your soul and ears are the breaths between you and I.

Yes, this is no exception.

I was happy yesterday, but I am happier today.
The -ier abbreviates for porterhouse steak, red wine, damp suede shoes, red lips, witty banter, petrichor and most of all, *her.

And if, oh, god forbid that you are going to draw your last breath.

I’ll say “Tell the stars and sun hello for me.”

I won’t cry. I swear. I promise.

But I’ll cry now, if you leave because you are still alive but you are ignoring the screams of your heart.

Please, just stay.

Love, laugh, cry, scream, smile with me till your heart finally stops.

That's why I can truly whisper to myself "I'll let you go now."

Now, its my heart that is crying.

Splintering into fragments.

Forgotten pieces.

Irreplaceable remnants.

Into dust.

And then beyond any doubt,
into
*nothing.

Eyes glowing fleet with a sweet, tender smile,
Warmth ruffles my naïve heart, a spring bloom.
Red ringlets of blush tickle for a while,
Unfurling petals whisper, panic looms.

A veil over sight all is crystal clear,
My destiny is right in front of me.
You smile, a thousand memories appear,
Each steady step, one hand; love flutters free.

A puff of white hair, which you stroke gently,
Crinkled fingertips laced, a soft glow gleams.
Your eyes slowly trace my face differently,
Clouds of shyness and a scarlet blush beams.

If this were true love, judgment speaks of lies.
My lovely fairytale has no goodbye.