The past month has been a mess of emotions
both conflicting and sobering.
I've always known our time together was numbered
I've always known our time together was numbered
but knowing there was an ending
was easier when I couldn't hear it coming.
was easier when I couldn't hear it coming.
Now I can almost feel the countdown
like a metronome I cannot ignore.
The steady ticking beneath every moment
reminding me that even the happiest seconds
are already becoming memories.
I listen to the ticking
and hate how calmly it keeps time.
Mocking me, as if it doesn't understand that I'm not ready.
Not ready to loosen my grip.
Not ready to watch the days disappear.
Not ready for a last moment of which
I won't know is the last until it's already gone.
But I know time will keep moving
But I know time will keep moving
whether I am ready to let go or not.
The clock will keep counting down,
while I stand here trying to hold tight to
the one thing I already know I cannot keep.

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