what's the time?
what's the time? has the clock struck twelve yet? is it finally the sixth month? has it been that long? that long since i fell into the dark pit, a hole, succumbing me in, you.
oh dear heart, worry not for i am free, you are free. worry not because you let go, but because letting him go physically won't change the memories carved in your heart, with the blood of his love, painting and repainting the disfigured bodies of two lifeless beings, dancing under the same sky, yet unable to grasp each other's hand.
dancing to the same slow song, yet unable to remember the words to it.
dancing with the same love, but unable to find it any more.
it's about time maybe, perhaps the duration of the song, ran its course
maybe you need to stop playing it after every time the last note fades away in the back
maybe you need to put an end to the same album, you just kept one song of, making a puppet of your feelings and him, being the one to pull the strings.
what you need is a different song
a different artist
someone who's singing will make you grin a wider smile and who's dance will lift you above the ground, making it wander up to heaven.
a dance to suck you out of your dwelling in the most melancholic corners of hell and show you what paradise lies above the clouds.
a different dance to move your bodies
a new three minute grievance to reminisce over.
so tell me now baby, what is the time now?
or is it too late for me to help you any more?
-diza
10/4/19
