The days blurred into one late summer day tragedy
Was it the 30th or the 31th?
When it took me airplane kilometers to touch her cold forehead
Most of the seats were empty, luckily
As I sobbed myself back into her sphere, wiping my bloodshot eyes with AirFrance tissues
A haunting stretch of time that I - 10 years after - cannot comprehend
An amalgamation of hours that felt both like seconds and aeons
Like a watercolor artist using too much water,
a drowned painting, a shallow layer,
I lost myself in a melting clockwork.
It has been a decade.
A word so powerful to the young mind that it feels like a Sisyphean rock
A laughable amount of time to the veterans of Chronos
And yet, here I am
Ten years without her smile, the working class hands to carress my face, the warm embrace
“How will I ever survive?” past me looped
And yet, here I am?
Time, this blessing and curse of life,
that poisons and cures,
the vial containing both water and cyanide,
the only constant that fleets.
