Time ticks onwards

 

Time ticks its lonely tocks

across the weathered face

of the lonesome clock.

A wilted flower in a vase,

reminds of a time when time was ours.

A photograph memory

sits firmly in place,

but time is fading the edges slightly.

The stars once shined so brightly,

now they blot out in the inky sky

one slow heartbeat at a time.

 

The age-worn

hands creak

slowly

mimicking the beat

of this heart so lonely.

The numbers all blur

like vapour

in the whispering air.

I remember love once lived here.

or was it just a bumbled affair, where

I was only there to pass time,

and another strip

of my heart tears,

falls to the

concrete floor

and dies there.

 

Time speaks in riddles,

and I’m left in a muddle.

Trying to find the middle

whilst I’m lost pacing around

on the outside, panicking

abound the cycling time

and the spinning

is making me feel ill.

Was any of it real?

The love you poured out to me,

became a flood

and I was just a boat at sea.

Is it my destiny to be lost

until the hands of time wear free

and fall to the floor

where the remains

of my heart used to be?

Before the tides

washed it out to sea

along with my

slight grasp of sanity.

 

Time turns

on torturous terms.

It lets you feel,

then gives you pain in return .

It makes you yearn

for the heart

you haven’t seen

for so long, the one that

used to beat so strong,

the one that lives in the

cavern in your own

mountainous shell.

But time ticks its lonely tocks

and those locks of hair sway

in your memory

fading a little more day by day.