Time
isn’t rude—
she’s brisk.

A lover
who doesn’t
kiss—
what a shame—
she only gestures
to the floor
already turning
the next
corner.

I had hoped
for the whole
song—
not just
a juicy morsel
already slipping off
her shoes.

I rise
hopeful—
my palms
up like petals
in wind
and Time—
she is gracious
for a second
lets me lead
while the music
dwindles
behind eternity—
enough time
to burn you
under my skin.