My mom only buys clocks that tick
louder than the thoughts screaming
in my head. The one telling me to run
back to you plays in unison
with the circular metronome hanging
on the wall next to me.
Every slow tick puts you another second
further from me—another moment
I’ve managed to pass without you.
My cat understands that something isn’t right;
she jumps onto my bed and cuddles next to
my face. I tell her I’m sorry for getting tears
on her snow-white fur. Something so beautiful
was never meant to be damaged.
And she sleeps there for the whole night,
because she knows something so fragile
was never meant to feel so alone.
louder than the thoughts screaming
in my head. The one telling me to run
back to you plays in unison
with the circular metronome hanging
on the wall next to me.
Every slow tick puts you another second
further from me—another moment
I’ve managed to pass without you.
My cat understands that something isn’t right;
she jumps onto my bed and cuddles next to
my face. I tell her I’m sorry for getting tears
on her snow-white fur. Something so beautiful
was never meant to be damaged.
And she sleeps there for the whole night,
because she knows something so fragile
was never meant to feel so alone.