Time trickles away,
Moments merely whispers.
Weeks turn to months and suddenly I forget
What it’s like to be human.
I no longer recall the taste of her flesh.
The look on her face
When I told her she wasn’t the one
Is as familiar to me as a stopwatch is to a sequoia.
But not a second goes by
In this wretched existence
That I don’t remember
The sound of her shovel packing my grave.