A single path ahead,
Uneven, torn, and sinking.
My heart held up by thread,
Smothered, snuffed by thinking.
Eternally new fears,
And judgement from peers.

When do we begin dreading birthdays?
When does the count down to the new year begin to sound like the tick tick tick of a time bomb?
When do days become hours
hours become minutes
minutes become seconds?
When do we finally stop and realize that we’ve lived seven years longer than our best friends?

Time is a fickle mistress

She moves so slowly when you’re young
When you want nothing more than for her to rush up and greet you
Then
in a blink
She’s gone before you can even utter a “Hello.”

But how are we to appreciate something we cannot feel?
How are we to gasp at the presence of something we cannot see?
How are we to sing a beautiful melody we cannot hear?

I wanted to see you today.
Catch up like we always do, but don’t do enough.
But Time, I guess, had other plans.

Assignments were filling up my inbox, papers just couldn’t be ignored any longer, and I was tired from not sleeping well the night before and my cat had to choose today to knock over the T.V., shattering the screen, and my mother called, you know how she can just drone on and on, and then I had to stare at my fridge for at least twenty minutes before deciding the chips in the pantry will curb my hunger fine, then this emergency at work and this thing with my sister…

Then
before you know it
it’s two in the morning
and I need to go to bed.

But those are all just excuses, aren’t they?
A bunch of moments to distract from the guilt from not seeing you.

You see, Time is a man-made creation
not some external force of nature.
Sure, the sun and moon glide across the sky,
but the meaning of that was assigned by us.
The day doesn’t begin when we open our eyes
there are plenty of cheap coffee mugs that say otherwise
So it doesn’t have to end when the light in the sky dies

Time is not a fickle mistress.

She’s in the gray hairs that grow with our wisdom,
In the wrinkles that are carved from our laughter
In the aches in our bones from dancing just a little bit too long

We are time.

And I’m sorry
I’m sorry for not making Time for you.

it's been used
quite meaninglessly
twice
    maybe
       three times
and
in between that
it is simply
a dust trap
in hindsight
it was
a waste

i must
have known
that it would
barely
     if ever
get used
lured
beyond sense
     and reason;
the novelty
behind the idea
silenced
any concept
of logic
     or prudence

being able
to say
i own
the same typewriter
as such
a great mind
must mean
something

even so
         if not
it shall remain
on display
esoteric
ironic
impotent
amidst the pages
of my bookshelf

I haven’t forgotten
the sound of your voice
or the way lines form
next to your eyes
when you smile
Though
I’m sure you’ve forgotten
those things about me
and everyday that passes
I think less and less
about that
or whether or not
you think of me or
if you lose sleep at night
like I did over you
The earth still turns
the sun still shines
and today is still today
with or without you

Ellen said to Steve
the serpent turned into a snake
in the old ring of trees
just look at us honey
we wanted to have followers
and so did he.

I want her,
I need her,
I love her.

But I want them,
I need them,
I love them.

Is it a question of who I love more,
Or perhaps who I need more?

Maybe it’s a question of who I can live without,
But regardless, my answer stays the same.  

Why do they make me choose?
Why can’t I love her and you?

They are so adamant about me loving him
That they ignore the trueness of the love I have beside me.

Do you want me,
Do you need me,
Do you love me?

If you do,
Then you’ll let me love her.

Because I don’t want to choose;
I don’t want to choose between her and you.

I want you,
I need you,
I love you.

But when you’re gone,
Who will want me,
And need me,
And love me?

She will,
I know that she will.

So don’t make me choose.
I don’t want to,
But I will.

If me loving her keeps you from loving me,
Maybe I don’t need you.

Because while I will always love you,
I don’t want your hate,
And I don’t need your disgust;
I don’t want your animosity,
And I don’t need your disapproval.

If you can’t look at me and her the same way you’d look at me and him,
I don’t need you in my life ruining the bond that we've come to build.

I love you,
I need you,
I want you.

But I love her,
I need her,
I want her.

So don’t make me choose.
I don’t want to,
But I will.