they say that time has no beginning
and no end. yet, as the days turn into weeks
and the weeks into months,
until the years pass me by,
I cannot help but feel…
older.

time…
well time, is aging me.

and now I measure it by how long
since last I saw you. and how long
until I see you again.

sometimes during my penance
for loving you
my heart gets so impatient
I start to feel as though I will melt
like a wicked witch of the west.

so I hold my tears back
from self inflicted death by moisture
and keep my tongue in cheek
and I lose myself when I can
into sweetness
into lust
into words.

and inside each of those things
I taste you.
and somehow
those licks
and thoughts
turn my clock back
into eternity
where time is just a measure
of me without you.

© 2006 Sara Coslett