THE CLOCK WAS TICKING

The Clock Was Ticking

To love rarely

rather than deeply

is words falling

between the spaces of

my spread fingers;

the untamed air is rushing past

the tender vulnerability

of years of yes;

the weight of a feather

balanced to a heart.

Love

rushing past our

tender faces as the heavens 

annihilates the wisdom

of my loneliness.

In my solitude,

I crave and take the sweetness

of flesh between pages,

between the whispers

of words,

between the moments

of your definitive parchment,

between what my creation craves.

Exhausted I pause,

in my lone footsteps

for the dirge of you and I

knowing

I would have rather loved deeply

than died.

 TJK