Forty-Five Minutes and I'm Way Ahead of You This Time Around.

Thirty minutes later. Two a.m. and I'm still here, I haven't forgotten......

Thirty minutes, tears are racing, creating clock hands that point to the edge of my chin, trembling, my bones point only to the end and you, you're more than

thirty minutes late.

Screaming, I'm slashing my heart to bits, forty minutes now you've been screaming.

Forty minutes later, you've broken, me, I'm well aware of what happens to mothers..

post-partum...

and I paid for you, I paid for you for twenty-seven months and forty-five minutes

late

is only slightly too much for me to

bear.

You're not accepting this, your eyes are popping, Dear, there's blood dripping from your glances and for

seventeen minutes and 17 days I've been twisting us into nothing while you've smiled at me, I've been writing the truth that will shut you down...

you're illiterate, you're criss-crossing my statements into lies and my letters are running from you...

they've been running for months now, back into my mouth to feel the safety of my tongue until

I kiss you

forty-five minutes

late.

Your steps are tick-tocking and Edger Allen Poe couldn't have saved us, underneath the floorboards at night while I feel the insanity of time...

attack

what's left of me,

you're not doing this this time around, you're late and I'm trapped inside Tuesday, but it's March now, Dear, and the years since we first kissed are counting themselves to four, I'm serious about the edges that I've been sanding past midnight, I've saved the sawdust for you

so you can eat the corners of me

next time your mouth opens, I've saved

myself

twenty-seven months

and thirty minutes

late

but I figure, as the words dance, frightened, on my tongue, at least I'm here

at least I'm thirty minutes ahead

of you.

 

Reviews

[Fade]

"seventeen minutes and 17 days I've been twisting us into nothing while you've smiled at me, I've been writing the truth that will shut you down...
you're illiterate, you're criss-crossing my statements into lies and my letters are running from you...
they've been running for months now, back into my mouth to feel the safety of my tongue until
I kiss you
forty-five minutes
late."

I"m searching for the words, by way of explanation, that I know what this means. Initially, I tried to grasp at the words, but they scattered, laughing, running from me, looking back in a "you can't catch me sort of way." They are concrete, but abstract.

So, here I sit, giving up, and the words came an sat in my lap, purring in poetic response. "She is here," they say. "She waits, impatient for his return, but wanting him not too. He is late, but too early because he shouldn't come," they whisper.

The words feel their last bit of freedom, and they leave her lips, and hide here a bit, in my lap, secretly.

You are brilliant, and your words are safe here.

[Kerwin]

This is very intense...and haunting in a way as well. I kept reading hanging on each work. And that is something considering how short my attention span is. :0)

[An owl on the moon]

Brilliantly haunting, so full of depth, passion, and the edges of life... sharp... unyielding... So wonderfully done... so painfully spoken...