Tick- Tock, Your Breath Upon the Clock

Tick-tock, tick-tock; the sounds of the old clock
Which rests resolutely upon the brick mantle
Of the fireplace which houses the roaring fire that mocks
As it represents my life- like a mere candle.

I sit upon my velvet covered chair
My eyes closed in near slumber, twitching open every few minutes
As if I could actually feel the presence of my departed lover
Within this very room- the one in which we danced to a rhythm that needed no time, but rather the beat of our hearts.
The bed in which we used to lay- big enough for a king-
Sits cold and forlorn in the other room where our love flourished and bloomed brighter with each night
One step of my hesitant foot within that room, releases memories too painful for me to see
Leaving me to strain my neck and back as I sleep in this chair, just praying, hoping, to somehow make all of this right.
A crucifix hangs above this here mantle, staring into my eyes and is a burden upon my withering, decadent, soul
And though I never believed in its power, you devotedly did
So now I, too, pray to your God with hopes your immortal soul can rest as a whole
Yet you breathe against the hands of this clock, allowing your love to echo as every reverberating tick.
My dying heart aches and cracks with every murmur in the passing breeze
For it carries your voice to me like a siren's call drags men to their adored death
This is why the windows have become nailed shut so to eliminate the possibility
And lessen my chances of becoming insane as you once were, my departed lover; perhaps my mind's eternal test.
Merriment no longer straddles my heart where it waits upon the night's ebony shore,
Begging for Death to succumb to its call as it did yours that fateful night, during that merciless storm
Though it shall wait for eternity, as you have, with every breath a tick, locked the door
To the passage leading to suicide- one of which you were all too familiar; a smile will never again be worn.
Still, here I sit, in this red velvet chair
Reliving the moment when we pronounced our love aloud
As glowing embers threaten to ignite my hair
But I no longer have a care, I must only preserve your memory with each sobbing sound.
Your passing left me belittled and unloved as you are my soul mate
And I cannot help but feel responsible for your death, might I have been there to stop your hand
Both of our futures might have changed... Or might they be the same?
Where we are both dead yet I still live but only live in the least defined way- breathing, talking, walking- a way even I can't understand.
I still cannot move from this godforsaken chair for fear engulfs me
The floor beneath me a hungry sea, waiting for me to drown in its murky water
But merely I listen to your breath with each tick- it allows me to see
That your love still lives though you do not, but it also kills me farther.

Tick- tock, tick- tock; the sounds of your breath on the old clock
Which rests resolutely upon the burnt brick mantle
Of the fireplace which houses the roaming fire that mocks
As it represents my life- a mere fading, dying, candle.