She is everywhere.
Slipping between cracks in walls,
ticking in the wooden clocks,
weaving my secret late night dreams.
She opens her golden eyes,
gives me a soft smile,
a gentle curve of her lips.
She offers me her slender hand,
she smells like wilted forget-me-not,
like blurred memories,
like summer fading into gray September.
Her voice is warm and low.
Like the crackling of a campfire.
But then I brush her fingers.
They are ice cold .
And suddenly I hear poison drip from her voice.
See the veil on her face tricking my eye.
And I yank it off.
And my breath hitches.
It. Was. A. Lie.
She’s Time.
She’s faceless, voiceless.
Everything and nothing.
A heavy silence, a piercing scream.
Future, past, present.
And she wants to take everything away from me.
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