Warped

longing

It's 1:17 a.m. for the third time today. I sit. Curled up in a ball. Hugging my knees. Desperately erasing chalkline portraits of him from spinning blackboards in my mind. Oval timekeeper ticking. Minutes sticking still. Pink, puffy eyes glued to the second hand blurr. My heavy stare begs time to stop....dragging....its...feet. My weighted gaze pulls seconds down faster. The yawning hand coasts fraily rewinding the uphill climb past eleven to the peak. Another lifelong minute. Only with him hours are minutes in a drag race headed straight for tomorrow's sunrise.