About Time and the Act of counting it.

At first she was just a side note, 
just suddenly there
crept up on my heart
and when it was too late
 to realize how much she meant to me
it hit me like a stab,
bleeding out in tears
on my bathroom floor.  
The first summer she was gone, 
I missed her so much
I only counted tiles.
A little more added each season. 
I didn’t forget about the last. 
I promised myself for the next 
I’d never think 
of her again. 
In autumn she came back proudly 
with new stories of men 
and I dismissed the stories outright,
they were ploughed by inconsistencies. 
Her presence just drove me crazy after that,
a dance of constantly doubting presence.
What are you doing here 
when you found happiness? 
I’m only here for this. 
For you.
I just wanted to find something worth living for. 
I am the truth,
not thinking about her didn’t do anything
as did whispering about her to my friend the moon. 
It was just beautiful. 
That was the big lesson. 
If it wasn’t one for life, 
I declare to you,
life will still be
redeemable.

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