I’ll take a life and I’ll give you life.

Death is like an hourglass,

Reaching its last drop,

Flip it around and you’ll witness Life elsewhere.

Walking past time.

The clouds – as if white smoke that froze in the air,

moving in a cycle, but that’s wrong,

Science says that the Earth rotates around its axis

counter-clockwise.

So, we’re the ones walking past those clouds, my clouds.

What about time?

What if time is frozen, and we’re walking past time?

What if time is constant, but we’re the ones distancing ourselves?

That we were the problem?

Weren’t humans always the problem, anyway.

You were Time. 

Emotionless or not,

Missing you feels like 

My chest is choking,

My stomach is tightening,

And my body is just aching.

It’s exhausting

Everytime I try to forget 

That I miss you

I put on a fake smile 

To cover the weakness 

I feel when I realise 

That your absence

Is digging a deeper hole

Than the one it made

The day before. 

And I’ve been doing 

A lot of smiling lately,

That my facial muscles 

Have become so rigid

And tense.

What can I do

To make your absence 

Bearable?

I know Time

Will heal all of this.

I understand that.

But it does not make me

Miss you any less 

Than I already do. 

Time, eh?

Didn’t I write once*

That you were Time

The unit that I have relied on;

Relied on you?

If you were Time,

Weren’t you suppose 

To heal me?

Then. 

Heal me. 

Note*: “Your synonyms”

Fast train.

When you’re used to the speed of a fast train,

When you have already overcome the headaches,

The nauseous feelings and tingling sensations,

To find yourself enjoying the rush, the adrenaline,

But then the speed begins to slow down,

As if the engine is losing energy? Fuel?

Is there something blocking the track ahead?

Is the track incomplete? 

Or is there something wrong with the train?

Are the passengers unsatisfied?

I wish I never got comfortable. 

I forgot every journey has a destination. 

When will I arrive?

The last hour.

The anticipation. 

The urge to hear your voice

As your lips say my name.

The eagerness. 

The relief I need to feel 

To know that my clouds 

Have set you safely on the ground.

The last hour

Is even more suffocating 

Than the first two hours.

One counts the minutes,

Counts sheeps 

Backwards and forwards,

Redecorates the room,

Makes futrure plans.

Playlist is on repeat now. 

Waiting is unbearable.

If anything,

Patience is one characteristic

I’d develop with you. 

The last hour. 

Is it the last hour? 

The airplane might have flown late.

Ranting to a blank page.

Playing with words again.

Well, this time, 

Words are just rushing out.

I play with words in poetry.

And this is no poem.

It’s babbling. 

It’s the last hour. 

60 minutes 

3600 seconds

And you’ll be 5700 km away. 

8 hour distance eh?

Time and distance. 

School never taught us

That those were important.

Weight, height, solving triangles,

Force, friction, all are insignificant

Compared to time and distance. 

Less than an hour now. 

And all I can do is wait. 

Your synonyms.

If you are dangerous,

I am ready to take the risk.

If you are contagious.

I am ready to be sick chronically.

If you are lethal.

I am ready to die between your hands.

Because I already know 

That you are fire,

As I have burnt with desire.

I already know 

That you are a devil,

Possessing my innocent soul.

I already know 

You are the dark knight,

Who rises even where there is no light.

And I have just known that

You are time,

The unit of which I have depended on in Life.