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Time
That dark phantom of tick-tock, has been spreading its wide wings across my form, creasing lines and furrows on otherwise taut and sultry skin. Kissing me like an unwanted lover, too strong and too impassioned for my taste. A pushy paramour, certain of my willing compliance. I resist in little ways, a cabinet full of creams and serums guaranteed to banish unwanted advances and yet my lover is inflamed with a lust for youth and keeps drinking it in despite my hurried beauty regimes.
Time
I wonder if my resistance to the kiss and stroke of minutes and hours, isn't aggravating my condition. What if I simply stop fighting? That would be the greatest rebellion. To willingly enter time's bed chamber and embrace my insistent lover with wild abandon and unequaled passion, making love beneath the circling heavens night after night, too engrossed in our coupling to worry over the gentle hum of ticking in the background. Time's effect would no longer disgust, having thrown open the prison door we stand sweaty, lined and aging, accomplices, beloved.
Time

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