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A Shaved Slice of Time

A Shaved Slice of Time

It was an act of love when I reached for your hand, knowing instinctively it was not going to be there as you had always promised. It was in that singular moment, composed of a shaved slice of time, when I knew everything had changed.

I still remember your smile, your throaty laugh. I can remember every line in your face. Now, I find solitude in my own silence,  listening to some obscure jazz recording that fills the empty void in my world.

I think of our life together as a shaved slice of time formed into an intricate mosaic pattern, beautiful and layered. It is a story with an unfinished ending; the tiles of our journey fractured by a random sequence of events we could not explain. 

I hear the steady drum beat of a clock beyond what can be seen that makes every second measured add up to a lifetime. I think of you, wondering what it would be like now to have all that time back, again.

I want to relive every moment, making them count for even more than they were. I wonder how you go backwards in time when it is all used up. When there are no more memories to be shared; no more dreams to be created.

Memories are made up of some indescribable moments when all our imperfections are overlooked. I think sometimes maybe that is all we have to hold on to when the day grows short and the hour fades beyond our reach. 

I still hear your voice as the darkness envelopes me like a river washing everything in its path downstream. Loving you was  never a mistake, even as I was swept away by a torrent of emotions, swallowed in a whirlpool never experienced before.

I sit in my chair facing the window watching the night transform itself into day. At times I think of myself as an empty vessel adrift without you; barely able to stay afloat. I have become an abandoned ghost ship, meant to drift forever between worlds.

You call out from shore as I imagine your shimmering image in the translucent light. Your dreams still hold me captive as another shaved slice of time disappears in the mist. I keep looking for you, hoping for just one more dance in your arms.

Copyright © Steve Zak | Year Posted 2018

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