Quietly, gingerly, breathlessly

Tiptoe past the hands
The drugged,
stalking seconds finally forgotten
Thumping in fear of waking them up

Stealthily, covertly, silently;
Muffled dins of excavation,
Concealed in fervent keepsakes
Flickering slightly to the gleam of once-bright eyes

Weakly, paradoxically, gently
Cradling found memories gone gold
King Midas' touch tainted by the tendrils of time

Life, leeched out and turned cold
Heavy in hands
Shackled to reality

Forgetting, awaking...

Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock....

as if life goes on.