Time in My Hands

To touch the body so close, so near...
and yet not fathom the deep wound—
that anguish blazes plain across your eyes.
Do you know how far it reaches?

To stand so close to someone
loved with terrible intensity
and still not possess them—
do you know the weight of that regret?

How terrifying the naked form
of feelings left unspoken,
do you know?
How much distance did the embrace
that could never be satisfied
manage to bridge?
Have you ever asked?

Tell me—how much time
do we truly have left in our hands?
How much time remains?
Can you say?