You are two days, separate
and far apart.
You are three weeks
when you kiss me.
I am seconds ticking on the wall
When the batteries are taken out
and the the nail that hung me
dropped into the kitchen drawer.
You are timeless.
I am numbers in a circle.
I wait
While you go on
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For whatever reason, I came across this quote and it reminded me of your poetry:
“We make out the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.”
- W.B. Yeats
Take it as you will, just thought it was a quote worth passing on.
I like it, thanks.