Time
I wait for time.
For time to flow,
For it doesn't mean anything.
It is hollow, imaginary and cruel.
As it lines my face,
See the wrinkles crease at my eyes.
Though it chaps my lips
And behaves as a bruise
And a balm for my heart.
It isn't a valentine.
The blood, regulated in and out,
Beating away time.
Moments. Seconds. Distances.
Words I issue.
Time packs them away on the past.
It brought you to me,
And it will tear us apart.
But time means nothing
For my love is eternal.
natasha maria
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