The air is tightly strung,
Like a rubber sheet,
Inches above my head.
Each strike of the minute hand,
Strums the silence,
The reverberations beat against my ears.
Your entrance breaks the rhythm,
The tension snaps like a small boy’s balloon,
He looks up, and so do I.
We are suddenly aware of how quickly things can end.
You drift towards me,
And smile sadly.
I am left with a tear and a piece of string.
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