FORTY-EIGHT HOUR INTERLUDE
I imagine time as quicksilver, liquid...slipping through my fingers despite my best attempts to grasp it. I want to save it, to hold it...to keep you here with me. I want to pour it into a bottle, to seal it tightly, and stop it from escaping...but I can't find a vessel strong or fragile enough to do so.
Time cannot be kept.
Time cannot be stalled.
Time cannot be stopped.
All I can do is lie awake beside you, watching you sleep...memorizing the lines and curves of your face and body. All I can do is pray that the morning won't come, that we will be forever frozen in these perfect moments. Deep down inside, though, I know that we can't.
Time cannot be stopped.
I want you to stay...I never want you to leave me again. I know that you have to – to save me, to save our son, to save yourself- but, selfishly, I want you to remain. Those months when you were gone before were the hardest of my life. I don't want to be without you, don't even know if I CAN anymore. You have become such a part of me, such an intricate part of my life over the last eight years, that there is no longer a "you" or "me", but an "us". Just an "us".
I guess it's always been that way, I just never noticed it before. Come to think of it, I can't remember a time when I //was// just myself...when I wasn't always thinking of you, of what you would do in *this* situation or *that*. We have become a part of each other, two halves of a whole. But what does a half do when the other is gone?
Forty-eight hours.
Forty-eight.
That's all we have.
Rome wasn't built in a day, two days –hell, I doubt it was even built in a year- but at least they got that long. All we have are two days. Two days, when before, we had eight years. That seems out of proportion- even to me. I can't believe that we wasted eight years together…No, not wasted, never *wasted*. Not with you. Just…misused, I guess. Time seems so much more precious when you're in danger of losing it, doesn't it? Everything does, for that matter. Time, our lifestyle, what I've come to view as "normal", *you*… All so much more precious now then ever before.
I don't want you to go.
//All I can do is lie awake beside you, watching you sleep...memorizing the lines and curves of your face and body. All I can do is pray that the morning won't come, that we will be forever frozen in these perfect moments//
But I know that eventually, the night has to end, and that the morning will come. And just like –that-, you will be gone.
Time cannot be stopped.
I imagine time as quicksilver, liquid...slipping through my fingers despite my best attempts to grasp it. I want to save it, to hold it...to keep you here with me. I want to pour it into a bottle, to seal it tightly, and stop it from escaping...but I can't find a vessel strong or fragile enough to do so.
Time cannot be kept.
Time cannot be stalled.
Time cannot be stopped.
All I can do is lie awake beside you, watching you sleep...memorizing the lines and curves of your face and body. All I can do is pray that the morning won't come, that we will be forever frozen in these perfect moments. Deep down inside, though, I know that we can't.
Time cannot be stopped.
I want you to stay...I never want you to leave me again. I know that you have to – to save me, to save our son, to save yourself- but, selfishly, I want you to remain. Those months when you were gone before were the hardest of my life. I don't want to be without you, don't even know if I CAN anymore. You have become such a part of me, such an intricate part of my life over the last eight years, that there is no longer a "you" or "me", but an "us". Just an "us".
I guess it's always been that way, I just never noticed it before. Come to think of it, I can't remember a time when I //was// just myself...when I wasn't always thinking of you, of what you would do in *this* situation or *that*. We have become a part of each other, two halves of a whole. But what does a half do when the other is gone?
Forty-eight hours.
Forty-eight.
That's all we have.
Rome wasn't built in a day, two days –hell, I doubt it was even built in a year- but at least they got that long. All we have are two days. Two days, when before, we had eight years. That seems out of proportion- even to me. I can't believe that we wasted eight years together…No, not wasted, never *wasted*. Not with you. Just…misused, I guess. Time seems so much more precious when you're in danger of losing it, doesn't it? Everything does, for that matter. Time, our lifestyle, what I've come to view as "normal", *you*… All so much more precious now then ever before.
I don't want you to go.
//All I can do is lie awake beside you, watching you sleep...memorizing the lines and curves of your face and body. All I can do is pray that the morning won't come, that we will be forever frozen in these perfect moments//
But I know that eventually, the night has to end, and that the morning will come. And just like –that-, you will be gone.
Time cannot be stopped.