I wind my heart back a few hours and let the minute hands knock into each other.
I wind my heart back a few hours and let it proceed to share, scare, and comfort in its procession.
I sit inside a chair, the confines, stronger and stranger than cement.
What is the sound of one person laughing?

Beauty lies dormant, a silent preamble.

What is the sound of one person aging,
Beauty looks away from what she can have.

What she can have
=/=
What she wants