Six hundred years.

Six hundred years. Her eyes never catches his during this time period, never hears the sweet caress of his gentle voice. Six hundred years. Another passes as the sun sets for the sixth time. Her heart, what remains, ices over with fear and paranoia. Will they ever reunite? Will his warm embrace ever meet her again? The breaking point. Torture. Longing. Anticipation. Twelve hundred years. Too many hours to account for. 144, if speaking technically; The time however, skips her mind. Only his face approaches within her flood of never ending thoughts. How could one smile, one hug, one laugh, one word, one kiss, bring forth such an abundance of joy? Agonizing pain. The heart, shattering again. A repetitive action, ongoing, a loop, forever continuing until, "I do". One step forward, one more breath in. Life seems to have ended, but softly beating, the heart meets ice for the first time. At least... it feels like the first. After his kiss, the feeling of his eyes meeting hers, his exhale of laughter slowly finding its way to grace her cheek with a slight peachy pigment, everything renews itself. The years disappear, not yet a century has passed. He only left a moment ago, but a decade already ages her. Oh. She still hasn't seen him yet. All is just a dream. The clock ticks again, the years still add up. Waiting, she knows. Waiting, she realizes. This. Today, forever, eternity, will never end. A repetitive action, ongoing, a loop, forever continuing until, "I do".

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741