Purple confessions under my fingernails. The pain long forgotten. Thoughts undressing themselves one seductive word at a time. Everything real feels so far away. The distance measured in soft caresses, not hard miles. The future conceding to the present like echoes of thunder.

Whoever we were before, we are not now. Yesterday just a puppet in the rambling soliloquy of time. The past can be such a conundrum. Trying so hard to impose its logic on lonely people.

Fragile smiles harden in the sun. Nervous hearts beat away in calm marathons. It's the sweetness of touch that only makes me want more. The love in his eyes just another song I’m not meant to play. Fingers strike random keys, but it’s not music.

Time can hold its breath for as long as it likes, but that doesn’t mean I have to suffocate in it.