I get jealous of the time,
How it ticks before my eyes.
I can see it change,
See the minutes peel away.
How it tallies
Rolls forward.
So linear,
Strolling in pace with the sun
I sleep between the clouds,
hang my clothes
on crescent moons.
I linger in the past
In the minutes that wont slough off,
Slipping into yesterday’s photographs,
Hanging every grievance to dry.
I’ll perch on the chem trails,
Re-reading faded notes,
Each kept crunchy letter.
Oh the ink-clad heartache,
So tender still,
I sleep with the memories
And bathe in the rust.