The Hands of Time

Two, seemingly connected yet completely apart
Individuality separates but can bring together
Though in some cases, well it’s just not the case

They both felt and hoped it could work
They wished to be one
It all came apart
They were never really together
The difference and the distance
A mountain they could not traverse
He chose to close the book
As much as it hurt him to say goodbye
He took her by the hand
The tears fell like rain from her eyes
As nice as he could be yet it wasn’t enough
and at the same time it was too much
He said: “I can’t be the one to help you find yourself
I’m still finding myself.”
The tears melted into flames
Pure anger in her eyes
She stomped off in a fit of rage
and so began the silence
He did all he could
Gave her everything he had to give
She was trapped behind a locked door
and none of his keys fit the lock

As they turned
The hands turned
Spinning turmoil like a mental virus
How can two come apart if they never really were together?

He was shocked by how he stayed in one piece
Until she decided to speak again
She opened her mouth and led him down a guilt trip
This time he was the silent one
Her anger pulsated through every syllable
Like throbbing flesh penetrated by a dull knife
He remained speechless
As her daggers of immaturity were aimed to cut his flesh
She turned and walked away
He thought of stopping her
but he couldn’t decide if he really wanted her to stay
The words she shot at him
Built a jagged cliff for him to stand upon

Guided by the hands
Guided by the ticks
Two individuals going round and round

The final words she spoke to him
Embodied a threat that she took lightly
Somehow he managed to lift himself and step away from the ledge
With a realization he is set free
She faded from his mind, as much as she could
The heart does not forget

Passing by, time is no cure
Speeding by, time doesn’t stop

He knows…
She doesn’t and faults him
Silence is their king
She tries, in her mind she’s right
The distance illuminates one
and overshadows the other
He makes her cry
Deep inside she knows the truth
but the tools aren’t sharp enough
and that’s where time comes in again
Like a speeding train derailed before destination

He expects…
Part of him is waiting for the day
That the words turn true
but he has turned away
Yet still his mind turns back to her

Everything is controlled by the hands
The two hands of time
More has now passed
Days turned into months
A passing thought, leads him back to her
He follows the path set before him
Only to find her bloodied
Her outsides painted with her insides
His sense of time evaporates
Eyes locked on her knees, bruised
His brain stricken with prior knowledge
Yet he hopes she knelt while praying to her god

She turned away for one final time
and she actually got what she wanted
He is by her side
Ever cynical, he chuckles “she’s still unavailable”
He leans in close and wants to
but he can’t bring himself to touch her
A lonely tear lingers upon her cheek
The final action of her life
Looking in her lifeless eyes,
He wishes he could raise her up
“Isn’t that what got you in trouble before?”
His inner voice is correct
and so a final farewell he whispers:
You didn’t have to.

Both reaching and moving
They meet and touch
but never could they be one
The differences that separate
Subtle but enough to keep them solitary
They are both the right and the wrong
Different speeds, they tick along
Never stopping never-ceasing
Providing the rhythm and the measurement of life
The hands of time


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