You think it's okay
But it's not.
Both of our lives
Are racing against the clock
Tick,tick,tick.
And when the big hands on the two.
And the little hands on the three
We're done.
There's no going back.
There's no changing the mistakes we've made.
There's no saying I love you one last time.
There's no taking on more whiff of the fresh cut grass,
Or your favorite perfume.
Tick tick,tick
There's no more adventure.
There's no more heartbreak.
There's no more anything.
We'll.
be.
gone.
Tick, tick, tick
So we need to do it now.
We need to indulge on the gifts we have now.
It's okay to order that piece of cake
It's okay to get that hair cut you love
But everyone else hates.
It's your life not theirs.
Tick,tick,tick
Do something you love
Because you love doing it.
Even if everyone tells you you're wrong.
Because our clock is ticking.
We can't see it.
We don't know if the big hand has almost reached the two.
And if it's almost there
And our time is up.
Did we live the life we wanted to?
Tick,tick,tick.

She severed the head of love's complacency
covering all I thought I'd discovered with a vice
like grip on a puzzling figuring out of normalcy
refusing any defining by turning pose in a trice

into fusions of fiery burns of my assumptions
until she was nowhere but there at every turn
churning the pressure with neat beats of passions
with valves registering a blistering alarm

a companion unhinged by dimensions dark tinged
not a snake charming woman nor a venomous fang
yet poison was taken with a cringe and a change
into a Hyde or a Jekyll I cannot decide things

When my grasps fall between all her parts half revealed
I gasp out of hunger pang eagerness to feel
slender slinking through fingers and thumbs unsolved
as a friend or a foe I can't know if she's real

Beyond physical perception I cannot be certain
because of fantastical attractions in legion
gone viral in tongues insubstantial past vision
yet assembled in ways which portend a contagion

"Temporary separation
is a part of the game.
After all, what is life
without a little pain?
And the sooner we realise this--

the better we will get at
sleeping during lonely nights;

the better we will get at
making it through the fist fights;

and the better we will get
at being alright,

because love isn't just about happiness,
or being perfectly comfortable.
It's about feelings alive in
every humanly way possible.

And if we're not ready for that,
then we're not ready to be loved.

And if we didn't feel broken,
then we didn't deserve to be loved."