I hold time in my hands
And let it slip
Grain by grain
Like sand.
I am cautiously letting go
Doubtfully watching it slide
Through my fingers
In an ever larger river of silky minutes,
Hours, days.
I hold time in my hands
And I thought that if I wasted it
I'd regret it,
But you've been silent for so long
That nothing is a waste anymore.
Nothing is more of a waste of me
Than holding onto every second
As if the next will be the one
You say something.
I don't want this mistook
For progress.
When I stop caring
It is never progress,
It is always ruin.
It is always
A waste.
But, frankly, I am tired
And so passionately loving every moment
Of every day,
And suffering so bravely
To love you with those moments
Has sapped me,
Has finished me
For now.
And so I hold time between my fingers
Like a handful of sand
Lazily scooped up from the seashore
And scattered warm on the wind
And nothing
Can really get to me.
Just for now.