Sand moves through the hour glass, counting down the past. I gripped to tight and lost it all, praying it would last.
I miss you sometimes so much it hurts, but I look back to see the ruin. The scar still proof of what we had, it was our own undoing.
Sand feels gritty between my fingers, I have to pace about. But frustration of things that went unsaid, makes me want to shout.
I can't make sense of the absence between, just that it always lingers in this space. Memories I still hold next to me, I wish I could erase.