Open letter to the broken dream

I miss you.
I say it once I say it a thousand times
Reinforces the hastiness of my decision.
Makes me note the hastiness...
Next time there will be vocal contemplation
Next time I will wish it was this time
Our time.
Now time.

Preparing for the villiany of it all,
Its funny how time flies
When the spoons resume spinning
and you remember what time it is

And way off I hear a pencil tapping and the sound of skin on a leather
chair...
and some guy with his cold sliding scale
is there reminding me that my time is up.

You're right I tell him.
I knew this wouldn't work... I glance over to my future and repeat to
her... I told you so.

And then my time is up.