If darker days were behind

our picture frame,

Then we find in its shadow

All our faults to blame.


Light bulbs flicker in the night

While the radio sings until it’s dead,

Counting our last moments

Falling within our ocean bed.


I held your hand as you

Reached for mine.

Solace in a tender grip aside,

A lost thing so divine.


Coarse, weary, bone-tired,

Still your fingers remain as talons.

Waiting, waiting while we lay awake,

Our fear drowning us by the gallons.


The sirens grow louder, the lights less scant.

Our pendulum struck its last click.

We’ll let go together if you want,

When the clock stops in one tick.


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