The clock on the wall will be forever frozen.
It’s hands stuck on one thirty in the morning.
Always a reminder of the way things ended between us.
The living room never more than just a fractured memory
As that morning replays in my mind like a broken record.
The screaming and cursing that we shared plays like a melody.
Every night without you is another night I lose myself.
Deeper and deeper in this dark pit, I dig my grave.
With a blade, I mark the days that pass on my bedpost.
Time was of the essence and we moved too fast.
We said I love you and married too quick.
It is a shame we could not be more than lovers at last.
This home we built together is nothing but a house anymore.
These hallways seem to stretch on forever.
The pictures of us with our smiling faces seem artificial.
Were we ever real or were we playing the roles society wanted to see?
The bedroom is full of open wounds and scars.
The laugher and tears all over the small stretch, a box full of memories.
Still, the clock on the wall will be frozen forever in time.
It’s short hand on the one and it’s long stem stretching towards the six.
Always the reminder of the night that you left.