The clock glares at me,

with the steady

accusations

of her hands –

Where will you be

In an hour,

 In a day,

 In a year?

Her disillusioned clicks

and clocks sear

into my brain

as I stare back at her,

trying to gain control

of her calculated revolutions.

But she is relentless.

Never slowing

 for a break,

 for a chance,

 for a breath,

 of air.

Gasping for another moment

between the mismatched rhythms

of her hands

and my heart

I wonder, 

How many hours

has she stolen

from behind an empty screen full

of things I was told

to adore?

How many days

has she drowned

in pools of dried tears

and unrequited love?

How many years

will I sit, gasping

for one extra moment

while so many others

pass by?