Moments
Of happenings and the lack thereof
A swarm of crows speeding towards my skin
Plucking it off by bits
I take you, Time,
I grab your hair and pull them off one by one
Do not dare to stroke my cheeks and not stop for a kiss.
A knock on my chest
There are knots in my chest
Time does not enter.
I clutch in air and her hair falls in my palm
It was an act of love
I saw an act of violence
Aloof and alone and endless,
Time, you bitch
You make love to them and look right past me.