Lost Time

I tend to the years I lived, the memories tucked in hidden creases. Friendships lash like crashes on apprehension's shore. Ebb and flow, ebb and flow. I'm twenty-eight but it feels like lies to fix your broken heart. I'm making up for lost time, watching the years of confidence grow like late blooming flora.

I need you. Be my distraction. Don't sniff at the romance on the dance floor. Let the wash of colour crescendo over you. Let it overwhelm you like the winds were a thousand hands grabbing for the right part of your garment for healing. Let it surround you like kisses of brutal blows beating upon your broken back.

I'm making up lost time. There is life along the river; I have felt it. I've come to expect ulterior motives as if they were handouts. Disappointed to find heart-break before letting the sparkles go, while I am pulled down in the warm undertow. Those glances for approval, those touches; so unnecessary. So I unclench these fists to try and release what my heart has gripped.

Release and hold, release and hold.

- Daryl Goh