I never learned to hold today.
Always too busy watching it slip,
waiting for it to become softer,
waiting for it to turn into yesterday.

I live like a thief in reverse,
stealing moments from myself,
hoarding them in the vault of yesterday
where they gleam with the lie of permanence.

But the present?
It terrifies me.
Its edges are too sharp,
its light too blinding,
its weight too heavy for hands
that only know how to clutch at shadows.

I wish I had stayed,
just once,
long enough to feel the warmth
before it turned cold.
Long enough to call it mine
before it belonged to the past.

But here I am again,
watching today dissolve into memory,
wishing I had loved it
while it was still alive.