An eye on the clock. Once half-hearted. I would have loved you. On borrowed time. And when I’m upon the moon’s harsh tiding, I will say I lose near nothing in its dying. Only one half heart. One eye lent to the clock. Though what dark foreboding seeps to the other side.
(…I was on that knife’s edge of fear and no fear, wondering what had so bruised me, so split me open, to this frantic morning sea that rushed the sweet breath of everything to my lips…)