The clock glares at me,
with the steady
accusations
of her hands –
Where will you be
In an hour,
 In a day,
 In a year?

Her disillusioned clicks
and clocks sear
into my brain
as I stare back at her,
trying to gain control
of her calculated revolutions.

But she is relentless.
Never slowing
 for a break,
 for a chance,
 for a breath,
 of air.

Gasping for another moment
between the mismatched rhythms
of her hands
and my heart
I wonder, 

How many hours
has she stolen
from behind an empty screen full
of things I was told
to adore?

How many days
has she drowned
in pools of dried tears
and unrequited love?

How many years
will I sit, gasping
for one extra moment
while so many others
pass by?