No Time Left

Ajouté : 2026-05-16

[00:00:17]Started with a stranger I've been drafting since 16.

[00:00:25]Pencil in the margins of a notebook.

[00:00:29]I kept clean.

[00:00:32]She had the face of forecast and the patience of a hymn, a silhouette so silent that the silence sang of him.

[00:01:04]of me. Every evening I've been shaping into someone who could sit across the kitchen and I flinch at what I become.

[00:01:19]I cast her in the credits of a film I never shoot.

[00:01:26]spoke for both the lover and the lover's substitute.

[00:01:34]Every empty corner cried the weather of her breath and the woman in the wallpaper grew thicker than the room itself.

[00:01:49]I knew her like a promise that had never learned to stop.

[00:01:56]Kept a placeet at the table.

[00:02:00]Kept a world within my heart.

[00:02:05]No time left. The pens gone heavy and the papers pale as bone.

[00:02:13]The lover I imagine was a country with no road home. She leaped where the lone lives in the breath before the speaking.

[00:02:26]And the loss I'm finally seeing.

[00:02:30]Where's my face inside the keeping?

[00:02:36]Loved her in the future. That's the tense for the bar. Past tense kept receipts for every chance I left on the doorstep of a doorway I was never going through. Watching rain confess the postman. Every letter overdue. The mirror is a teacher when there's no one in the room. Shows you how to wear a wound until the wound becomes costume.

[00:03:02]I dressed in mine on Sundays. Took it walking on the moore. Told the heather she was beautiful. She heard it all before. I was the cathedral lit by candles from doubt. The priest who blessed an absence with the congregation locked out. I move like the answer to a question asked too much beyond the kind of body I could ever come to touch. I gave shape to the silence until the silence seemed to care.

[00:03:33]Made a room inside the wanting. Then this took the room for her. No time left. The kettle keeps the temperature of grief.

[00:03:48]And the candles licking dark light is the only true belief. Every time to my head tightly was a hand I learned to lend to myself when no one offered and the offering was the end.

[00:04:11]The garden I've been growing for a guest who never came held its roses in suspension like the pause before a name that you forgotten in the saying and the saying gives you nothing but the shake your mouth is making for the word it should be sounding.

[00:04:29]There was never any hurt.

[00:04:33]Let me say it like a wound.

[00:04:37]She was always just my mirror.

[00:04:41]with the softer kind of moon bouncing back the longing I've been hauling since a boy stood at his bedroom window asking whether to bring joy.

[00:04:57]>> The trouble wasn't fiction. Fiction was my only friend. The trouble was I needed her to do what no one can. To love me into someone I could finally tolerate.

[00:05:09]And by loving the morning that the morning coordinate no time left >> for inventing the canvas takes the dust.

[00:05:28]The compass in the corners grown >> in the wedding ring of rust.

[00:05:35]Won't be drafting her tomorrow.

[00:05:38]Tomorrow's been redacted and the curtains keep the color of a dawn I extracted.

[00:05:51]What's left is this. The singing of a sorrow I made up a gospel of the gap where I kept pouring out my cup into hands that were waiting because hands were never there. Just my own. Two empty palms. Still lifted like a prayer. A long time later. The pen lies quiet, but the page still knows the tone.

[00:06:16]The lover I imagine was the life I couldn't do. She lived where the long rips in the space before revealing.

[00:06:28]And the loss I'm finally leaving.

[00:06:32]Where's my face beneath the feeling?

[00:06:38]I'll sing it till the breath bends.

[00:06:41]Home through the nights that won't end until the song forgets. It had a singer.

[00:06:48]Can the singer forgets he had a song and the loss lies down where his loss was all alone.

[00:07:02]In a man who made the morning eat the morning all along.