The Tunnel

It’s called time, the measuring scale standing between I will and I didn’t

And it’s all a matter of time till I convert promises into regrets

like a jet lagged traveller stuck between date lines and time zones;

I cant be sure that I left those moments behind like a hit and run with no witnesses

Is that why I try to forget more than I try to remember,

I can’t remember what I need to but I remember each moment I fall like I need to…

Time becomes a draw bridge slowly opening and thinning it’s planks into a sheet of paper

so thin that it’s transparent but this moment’s text will forever be recorded onto it

and folded to be tucked underneath my pillow as fodder for my nightmares,

even in my daydreams; my recollection is so vivid that I don’t call it remembering;

I call it time travel and I time travel so often there no longer is a now

just past moments that I’ve experienced much too late,

social cues that have reached their expiry dates.

I wish I could time travel back to the moments where the promises were still fresh

Not even now could pull me back from your smile

Where I am now get’s harder to reconcile

But I know there will be a place there for me to spend a while

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s