Untitled #19 (A Poem)

Untitled #19

Too late.

Maybe it’s too late

Maybe I’m too far gone

Too swallowed by the darkness

Too deep in the Mariana Trench that is this dread

All around me Tar,

To ward off any hope that someone might pull me out

And 10,000 black butterflies to remind me that delicacy isn’t a virtue

That beauty isn’t timeless, and everything must decay.

Constant reminders,

Like the grandfather clock ticking in the back of your mind

Just loud enough to echo into the empty spaces left by the silence.

Loud enough to remind me that time always moves on.