Time has lost it's meaning. I no longer measure it by seconds, minutes and hours but by the drag of a cigarette, the sip of a bottle and the thumping of my heart.
Those words you spoke with an eloquent devastation hang in my mind, fresh as an open wound. Together we bled the same lie, hoping in vain that the other wouldn't discover the hidden truth in our porcelain smiles.
I cannot shake that feeling from my bones, that hopeless gnawing at the muscle in my chest that you left me with. If only I were a man of metal and wires, then perhaps I could watch as the pangs of emotion bounced off my tempered shell.
Our love was a masquerade and we both hid behind the most intricate masks. Designed with sweeping curves of passion and mystique, they fulfilled their purpose beautifully. When the masquerade was over, and those expertly crafted masks fell to the floor, our hearts fell with them.
"We both know where this is going." You said as we stood on the pier, watching the ocean dance before us. You were right, we'd known from the beginning. Ours was a love that never had a chance, a train heading full steam into a dead end. Then, with naught but a kiss on the cheek, you walked into the crowd and I was left with just the scent of you on my flesh.
Time used to mean something to us. Maybe because we knew inside that we were on stolen minutes. Those talks we had of the future, empty words and dreams, would take up so much time. Why did we waste it so? Perhaps we were such experts at deception that we fooled even ourselves.
If I saw you on the street, how would you react, I wonder? How would I react? Would there be an embrace, full of nostalgic memory? Maybe just a slight smile from the corner of our mouths, a nod to the stolen time we wasted together.