Tick Tock

He told her to wait for him,

And she tried

Desperately

To hold onto barely there wisps,

Of a relationship,

Formed when they were nineteen

 

But when days turned to weeks,

And weeks into months,

She grew hard and cold,

As each passing winter,

Left its mark on her.

 

Fear is an interesting thing,

As it merges with each breath,

You inhale into weary lungs,

And drums along,

With hopeless heartbeats,

 

Till you no longer remember,

A world without it,

A life without it,

And it consumes you,

And your empty shell of patience.

 

She had waited,

Far too long she decided,

And tied her life,

With apron strings and wedding rings,

To another man,

 

All to escape her fear,

Of being alone,

And hollow,

And to silence the endless countdown,

Of an inner clock.

 

But in a grey home,

In a grey world,

With a grey man,

She found herself still waiting,

And she didn’t even know for what

 

Waiting for color,

And noise,

And her tired forlorn heart

To beat with something,

Instead of just blood

 

And she soon realized,

Being without fear,

Can sometimes be its own cage

And sometimes sorrow,

Can be worth the pain

 

But it doesn’t matter now,

As she waits for

That elusive something,

Tick tock

She whispers mockingly to herself

Tick tock

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About saharsalman

Aspiring poet. Spectator of life. Words of Whim.
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