How long are you going to let your happiness be decided by her actions?

I sat alone today,
and I felt absolutely free.
The air was crisper,
My shoulders were lighter,
I felt like I could fly.

The weights on my ankles disappeared,
the spring in my step returned.
I haven't felt so alive in months,
and all because I left you.

Sand slips through the cracks in my hands
As a struggle to keep it close.
It always finds a way to go,
No matter how tight I hold.
My grip must be weak,
Or maybe it’s betraying me.
Because a better part of me knows
The sand will always slip away.

I like my lungs to burn,
While your arm’s around my waist.
The sweetest touch lessens the burn
Of such an acrid taste.

I watch the pendulum swing on my Grandmother’s old clock.
It’s three hours and twenty minutes off, and she can never fix it.
She keeps it anyways.

When I was little I used to sit in front of it
And sing along when each hour hit
Three hours and twenty minutes off.

The old clock used to wake me up at night
And I’d climb down off the top bunk
To check that it was three hours and twenty minutes off.

Now the clock is shoved in a corner,
Old and forgotten,
But still three hours and twenty minutes off.

My Grandmother’s new husband fixed the old clock.
He did what my Grandmother could never do.
The old clock is no longer three hours and twenty minutes off.
It will never be again.