Time Is What I Lack

Its time, time is what I lack. Time with her a something more than just a label. A label never mattered. Every touch, and every kiss marked me with life. She gave me life. She gave me death. I knew we were an hourglass with sand dropping every second from the very start. I was okay with that because I enjoyed the journey, mostly. The very last piece dropped and we settled in the bottom, a low, but the best we could do until someone had the courage to turn the glass over; to start time again.


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