Some nights I’d just lay awake next to you memorizing the sounds of your heart beating when you were peacefully sleeping.
I’d listen to the beating of your heart for so long that it started to sound like the ticking of a clock.
Each beat was another measure of time I lost with you.
The beating of my heart started to sound like the melting of snow. Dripping off trees onto the warm concrete – thuds. My heart was thawed, full of love.
I knew I was in trouble.
We didn’t have many moments left.
Every moment started to become me worrying about facing the hurt of not seeing you again.
Love is a scarce resource to come by. I realized that it’s not something that you always receive in return and it’s one of the natural resources that is most taken advantage of.
Now I sleep alone every night but I still hear the sounds of your heart beating.
My heart is the end of a brutal winter when every thing is torn up and dull.
Love and oil. Both natural resources we go to war for.