Days drift by, our pillows collecting dreams and the mind dust that trickles off during sleep.
I fulfill my needs every day and forget to do slightly more important things -
like making sure I have enough time;
time that I don't spend worrying
on not having enough time

It is five in the morning, maybe a little later.
The clocks stopped working,
or perhaps it is just that I stopped reading them.

I forgot how far away you were until
today you pulled at your side of the string
And I felt the years of distance it took to reach me
(how many things one can lose in a year never ceases to surprise me)

I can only write when I am
sleep-deprived, and the silver dust
seeps into my mind like an hour glass
that wasn't meant to be turned back around just yet.

I watch the sun tear into the darkness.
The horizon smiles at me. "You'll never reach me," it taunts.
I know I'll still keep trying.
Today my pillow is emptier and my heart is fuller.

It is so quiet now.

I can hear my heart beat against everything;
knocking on every door, hoping for someplace to be let in.
It is so quiet now that I can't ignore how lost I am.
It is so quiet now, that I can't pretend I don't hear myself.