323/ of time

Ignore the alarm this time, darling, I plead with my eyes but we’re both too awake to rekindle sleep. How cruel is it that we have lost all our mornings. We wake when it’s too late for early birdsong trailing behind the whispering of dawn. Instead, the city is alive and uptight before us, reminding us of work and the ten-hour trudging ahead.

Forget the loose romance of breakfast; we’ll eat straddling dinner and what comes before dinner but after lunch. We are together but never together—same office, same floor, different corners of the room.

It is only in that walk back to the parking lot that we own time again. “How was your day,” the obvious marker, and the slow swinging of hands dictating the tempo of time. At home, the clockwork continues: shut the door, set the alarm, you tell me I look pretty from under the sheets, and we fall asleep knowing we won over time again this time.

Posted 6 months ago with 9 notes

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