The ticking of the clock

As it slowly makes its way

Across the spaces in my mind,

Filling me with nothing more

Than its constant din

Is like a slow cruel death;

I catch myself gazing at its

Somber visage time and time again.

The flow of my life's blood

Surges and then ebbs as

I try in vain to remain calm,

Making me feel like I'm walking

On a narrow steel girder,

Miles above the ground;

And still the hands creep

Slowly past each number,

Making me doubt my very sanity.

Images of our time alone together

Tempt me in vivid technicolor;

In my mind, I try hard not to rush,

Forcing myself to be patient,

Wanting it to last as I feel

His love infuse me.

And I know, as the cadence

Accelerates mercilessly onward

That I will wish for this painful

Lingering torture as I lie in his arms

At last.