heartsong of a broken clock.

time whispers across the continental drift,
among icebergs and decaying rainforests.
it exhales morphine gas into fragile lungs
and cools withering skin. breaks nerve-
racking silence and countries into insignificant
pieces of eternity.

.

time wraps lovers like you and i into an uncertain

embrace, skips to the beat of our hearts and slows

down just before the collision, freezes at sunrise

when all good things come to an end and the sheets

beside me are colder than absolute zero.

.

clock hands always move, grasp at a minute and hold
it. they are floating clouds, falling trees and the cry
from a girl with a broken family. regardless of beauty
and destruction, continuously keeping motion and
irrelevant to anyone except those who watch the
hopeful tick-tock of a broken clock.