Suspicious

The hours drip like melting ice. And why shouldn’t they? Nothing lasts forever. It all disappears, evaporates without a trace. As if nothing was ever there. And sometimes I have to wonder if I’m not imaging all this?

Believing that love will come my way and want to stay for more than a day or two. These thoughts, these feelings, like threaded needles trying to close up bleeding gashes. An effort in futility to keep alive what died so long ago.

The sweetness of his touch only makes me crave more. The love in his eyes just another song I’m not meant to hear. I name the days as if that will help me find what’s missing. My otherwise empty heartbeats like quiet footsteps in slippered feet.

Love might as well be made of paper dolls. Hands touching because they have no choice in the matter. I watch my life search the floor for its socks and shoes. Suspecting that it’s true. It's all just temporary after the door closes.