The Clock Struck One
The clock struck one.
my heart skipped a beat —
fearful you were drunk;
terrified i was falling.
i begged the clock
to stop moving.
i was grateful it didn’t.
The clock struck two.
my bag on your shoulders,
and we said farewell.
two months since we first met.
i ask the days,
when can i see you again?
The clock struck three.
third time meeting,
waited for three hours;
and called three times.
back then,
i didn’t mind waiting.
The clock struck four.
you couldn’t stay long,
i had to leave soon;
i sit still in the darkness.
it feels like home with you.
a home i don’t mind
staying for a while.
The clock struck five.
they saw the chemistry,
before we noticed it ourselves.
i deny it,
you laugh it off.
we were both blind then.
The clock struck six.
six steps at the balance beam
to reach the middle.
but,
i couldn’t risk falling.
especially,
if you won’t be there to catch me.
The clock struck seven.
you ran ahead,
i stayed behind.
a simple reassurance:
we’ll see each other at the finish line.
and i see you
amidst the crowd.
The clock struck eight.
we both risked that friendship
for something more.
the ocean
became more sentimental;
nature was rooting for the story
to grow.
The clock struck nine.
your car
held the key moments:
laughter,
inside jokes,
midnight talks,
tears.
The clock struck ten.
but all things that grow,
decays.
dies.
the stars retracted the signs,
the fates cut the lines.
The clock struck eleven.
we both begged,
for destiny,
for timing,
for circumstances,
to make things right.
they couldn’t.
we… couldn’t.
The clock struck twelve.
my heart skipped a beat,
fearful you were falling;
terrified i was drunk.
i begged the clock
to stop moving.
i hated that it didn’t.
