Time

Time seems fluid.

           You and I are just floating through.

Time stretches on and on,

            Until the day has ended

              And the darkness is surrounding.

The rising sun

         Seems to stretch like an endless orange on the horizon.

It seems as if it will never end,

            And just as that thought crosses my mind,

                        It’s over.

The sun is above our heads.

The world seems to be moving at a rapid pace,

Whirling and whirling around in an endless orbit.

 

But then,

        It stops,

            And I spot you.

 

Now I’m planted to my spot,

And the world’s coming to a slower spin,

But not to a complete halt.

 

I’m now wrapped up in the wind,

            Leaves blowing all around.

                         Creating a vortex similar to that of a hurricane,

But I’m in the eye.

 

Time seems fluid.

           You and I are just floating through.

Time is running short.

            The days feel as though they’re minutes.

                        The dawn seems forever approaching.

 

The once forever sunrise,

                 Has turned into a quickly approaching sunset.

The last beams of light,

            Are shining past into the depths of the landscape.

                                 At least,

                                     The places they can reach.

The dull moon is now dangling above our heads.

               The stars try to weakly sparkle the midnight sky.

The dark sky

                 Is now moonless.

All that’s left are the soon fading stars.

 

The wind’s stopped.

I can feel wet leaves beneath my feet.

They’re wet and unpleasant as they stick to the soles of my shoe.

 

I can’t make the outline of your face,

And I assume you can’t make out mine.

For some reason,

                  Your name sticks in my throat,

                  And as I reach out to try and catch your wrist,

                         The figure of you dissipates.

You start disappearing from the bottom up.

                 I can see the desperation in your eyes.

                        There’s a glimmer

                          That seems to keep your figure.

 

Your eyes seem to be the last to go.

            They scream to me.

            They say the words that your mouth can’t form.

Through the darkness, they’re they only thing that illuminate.                                                                     Through the darkness,

                                     All I see is the white.

But it’s slowly gone,

            And all that’s left

                         Is the ghost of where you used to be.

                              A ghost that none of my five senses can detect.

 

                                                                                                All that’s left is the dark.

 

 

Comments

Need to talk?

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