"The Clock That Stares Back"

Time

what a strange, stubborn thing. 

Too fast when I laugh, 

too slow when I ache. 

It slips through fingers 

but carves itself deep in skin. 

A single hour with her 

feels like breath, 

gone too soon. 

But a lonely hour? 

It drags its feet 

like it's lost, 

like it doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

We chase time, 

then beg it to stop. 

We waste it, 

then mourn it. 

It’s the gift we forget to unwrap, 

until it’s already slipping away. 

At sixteen, 

I wanted it to fly

to grow up, get out, 

become someone. 

In twenties, 

I wish I could go back

just for a minute, 

to sit with my dad, 

or smile longer at the version of me 

that didn’t know what was coming. 

It’s a paradox. 

The future feels far 

until it's behind you. 

The past feels close 

but you can’t touch it. 

And the present? 

It’s always asking for more, 

never stopping long enough 

for you to feel 

like you’re actually living it.

Sometimes, 

I stare at old photos. 

The people, the places

they’re still there, 

but frozen. 

And I wonder

did I say enough?

Did I see it for what it was 

or just rush through it 

like I had forever?

Time teaches, 

but it also takes. 

It gives us memories 

then tests us

“How much can you carry 

before you break?” 

And maybe that’s the point. 

Maybe time isn’t meant to be tamed. 

Maybe it’s meant to remind us 

to hold hands tighter, 

to look longer, 

to stop waiting 

for a “someday” 

that may never come.

Because in the end, 

we don’t run out of time

we run out of chances 

to feel it fully.

And I’m just trying now

really trying

to be where my feet are, 

while my heart still remembers 

every clock 

that ticked too fast...