it’s too early to be this damn tired

my mind is fixated on the time change i’ll endure soon

losing an hour of life

i’ll get it back eventually

but will i really

once gone it seems too fleeting to ever lasso again

like the smile and wave at the end of the bar and by the time you fight through the crowd she’s gone

just lipstick on the rim of a wine glass and lost promise of a night neither of you would soon remember

how many of those have i experienced

a dime short

a day late

how many times did i find the right her at the wrong time

there was one

she was exactly my type

or my type then

i go through types like seawater through gills

there was the bookish nerdy girl phase

the shaved head angry femme phase

every color shape and size at one time or another caught my poetic eye

i see beauty in everything

except that goddamned mirror

fuck that guy

doofus

i like his eyes though

they can be pretty at times

the greens and browns and yellow lattice

and i suppose they are decent lips

at least they have been pressed against some other wonderful lips and they must retain some of that magic

but every hour lost

sixty minutes that could have been spent writing

thirty six hundred seconds that tick by unnoticed

unseen

drawing thanatos ever nearer

i hear your rustling robes you skeletal prick

osteoporosis having, scythe waving, pale horse riding bastard

i don’t have two coins for charon so just leave me on the muddy shore

i’ll make my own way across

if i could have the wasted hours back

the missed opportunities to do over

i’d do it all the same

pine over the lipstick the glass received that could have been my lips instead

those brown, blue, green, eyes that could have locked onto mine for just a moment more

that long, short, red, brown, blond, dyed neon pink with shaved sides, liberty spikes, smooth head that could have rested on my chest as i whispered these words into her ear and lulled her to sleep, sated with her leg draped across me, sighing contentedly as we drift off together

every single one of you is beautiful

perfectly imperfect in all the right ways

and i’d love to sing softly to you as your breathing becomes steady and the scent of wildflowers fills my nose

gladly give another of those precious hours to tell you exactly how gorgeous you are as bill evans trio plays in the background

you don’t care for jazz, i know

but you don’t much mind it after we’ve made love and your knees are weak and i’m composing ode number four billion about how much i love you

that right now

in this soon to be gone hour

all that mattered to me was seeing you

it was sweet when it wasn’t, and it was delightful when it was

so let’s spend one more hour laying here tangled together and sleep

i’ll hold you tight and keep the nightmares at bay

and even for just this one hour

you’ll be the princess you wanted to be growing up

and you’ll be the only woman i’ve ever loved so deeply for thirty six hundred seconds

and it will be an hour not wasted for once