Seven Sunday runners passed us by.
This, is how we kept time.
How I, kept time,
for tears flowed too quickly to be counted.
And I hurriedly erased them from view with the edge of my sleeve
so you wouldn’t see the truth behind my disguise:
that I wanted more than what was available to me -
Less sunsets, more sunrise.
That I was pretending, not to love, your lust.
The whole thing, felt useless anyway.
So I watched the runners, keeping time – it shouldn’t have taken so long
to end something that never started.
That ring, never left your finger.