Time Does Not Heal

Time Does Not Heal



They Lied

Time scavenges on your memories, mocking them.

It feeds on confusion with a vampire intensity, unwelcome, unbidden.

A constant unrelenting process that bleeds in your mind.

Whispering forgotten lines from conversations unremembered,

A plague of dreams that wakens you half asleep, to recall their voice, their touch,

Vast plains of air without them

Time is a wave before death.

It is an opportunist playing with you.

Brief respite before despair, each a hell not to be compared.

Time does not heal,

Healing soothes, like a nurses hand on feverish skin.

Time is a cesspit filled with hopes unfulfilled

An ever widening chasm between you and them