Time. Time we didn’t get, all caught up in and
dragged through those months of hell
Time was running out.
For you, I would have walked on fire but there wasn’t enough
Time to change your mind, time to kiss you once more, to hold you close
It passes with the hands on your watch; the one I wear with your initials
so worn and faint on the back, my wrist from your wrist
Your soft flesh are ashes in a box on a shelf and I want to scream
Time. Time to remember, to release, to forgive.
I will keep your watch ticking, polish its black face, wear it often.
I will remember you in better days, your laugh, that smile, those eyes
I will honour your struggle through my words, my tears and your story
Time. There is never enough.
I wasn’t finished knowing you.