The Sands of Time

a soft, whispered hiss of

grains gently spill with the breath of dawn,

awakening the quiet hourglass

we call life.​i peer into yours, greeted by stories woven intogranular strandstracing the contours of my auricle silentlyflowing onwardinto open palms.grainsa bridge betweenyour heartbeat and mine​in your iris, once vibrant hues

of memories fade to sepia,joys of yesterdaydissolve into sunlitsand.a river of forgotten birthdays,truncated names, silent syllables.

​

i dive into the warm tide, holdinga breath that stills water,longing to surfacewith spoors of lost time. 

​​

ripples form as i come up for air;

you turn to listen,

but only for your 

ears to tell you lies,

​​

a gaze that reaches through,

finding nothing to hold—

just a few words

that draw a blank.

​​

i catch you,                                               adrift,

in a labyrinth of yesterdays 

that never truly happened.

​​

so i find myself,

on the edge of a whisper,

pondering,

should i call for help

in the place

where you may be last seen