of midnight metronomy

pillows are streaked with 

afterimages of tears, 

and crumpled hairs disentangle

from a minute last’s nightmares. 

here the ticking starts. listen.

tick, tick, tick.

each second flips a wink under its chin as it wanders past.

can they not wander briskly?

tock, tock, tock.

darling, the minutes are longer than the seconds, don’t you know?

i count both till i hear double. they’re both unbearably slow.

tick, tock, tick.

it’s been a while. 

a while? yes, a while to some, not most. i still have a long way to go.

tock, tick, tock.

how long will you count? when will you stop?

don’t ask until you’ve counted the night with me.