Counting Down Breaths

Staring at me, still, this brisk shine of an emotional masquerade, settles.

Still it has been, letting me move freely amongst my masked demons.

Days it has been, awaiting chains lusting to be broken.

The key in hand, how tightly it is being held. 

Counting down ticks of a clock, wishing on the action of snooze.

For the rim to touch my lips, is but a reality of defeat. . .