Blood on the Clock

Blood on the Clock

Time moves like blood,

thick, slow, red and heavy,

on hands that cannot touch,

on faces that forget.

The clock ticks, slow steady.

my skin shivers,

my mind sharpens,

every second cuts deep.

Every hour a scar,

yet I move forward,

carrying the weight of years,

the shadows grow long.

Time waits for none,

I feel its pull,

deep in my chest,

its pressure relentless.

I stare at the hands,

they pierce, they linger,

reminding me I am alive,

the past hums softly.

Whispering wounds I carry,

lessons written in blood,

trails of what was lost,

and what still remains.

The minutes crawl, then sprint,

each tick a hammer,

each tock a whisper,

I walk through it.

Breathing in the dark,

feeling time fold over me,

until I stand still,

alive, unbroken, aware.

My dear reader, thank you for your support and letting me share with you the love of my life, an insight into my thoughts, feelings, and life. God bless you.