There’s a haunting romance
in the way that time has such a hold on us.
Time draws lines in our skin
and erases them away
in the years after passing.
Time leaves you wanting more
or wishing things would pass.
Time is what gets us out of bed
and realize we’ve stayed up too late again.
We are puppets in a claustrophobic stage
Longing for someone to cut the strings.
But it’s apparent that the passing of time itself
With no room left for leisure
Is the catalyst for those urges.