My time with you is limited—all I hear is the
metronome of our descending clock
reverberating through my mind.
I want to take a piece of you with me when I go—
Tuck your laughter under my arm like a book of
poetry so I can read it whenever I please—
Then stuff your arms in my pockets so I can feel
your warm embrace whenever I’m feeling down.
But I can’t cut pieces of you like I can slice a piece of pie—
I can have all of you or none of you. But I don’t ever
want to choose none of you.