Heartvalves and Clockwork

I never wanted to be your grand scheme of things,
The big blowouts that required confetti and balloons,
Required sacrifices and credit cards that took you months to pay off plus interest.
I pictured myself more as the antique item that was on sale in a thrift shop that caught your eye,
Beaten and worn, and yet surprisingly still useful even if I was put on a shelf and just admired every once and awhile.
Tick, tick, tick, tick,
My hand is stuck on the time past five because its the moment where I realized my baggage was really never left behind,
I pray you dont notice as I am starting to take up too much of your time,
My emotions are like the hanging numbers off the face of this clock,
My own countdown is coming to a close and I realize that maybe in the end,
All I was ever good for was counting down the minutes,
Seconds,
Until this moment came where you realized I wasn’t the person you thought I could be.
I try and apologize with clock chimes but
All they sound like are cuckoo noises and broken gears,
Stuck on the words that sound like knives hitting the cutting board,
I somehow made you the victim when all I ever wanted,
Was to show you how you made my world stop,
How every breath you take is the equivalent of oceans pulling back from the sand,
How when my fingers trace the spaces between your hands I think,
of puzzles and how I crave to be every piece of you,
crave to let my lips kiss all your old wounds,
ache to whisper your name against your spine as my arms are holding onto you as I constrict you in my embrace
because I can’t imagine the idea of letting you go after I just got done with this chase.
But then I remember that I am a broken clock, stuck in the moment past five, remembering all the times you looked at me when you thought I couldn’t see.
Tick, tick, tick, tick.
Here I am, frozen in place as I watch you leave, and my gears are stuck in my throat and my tongue is replaced with all the times we spent together.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.