The distance of a voice, is only a short time away from touch.
Give, it's time to. Its time too. Time to. Time.
Live a little or die a lot. The choice is hours.
She stared at me, like day stares at an hourglass and night, the sand trickling through time; the sea disappearing to eyes in the dark. But I hear her waves coming in, as she whispers one last chance goodbye.
Loneliness always eats up time, fills on depression where hands move slow, to reach out for a moment of care.
To save face, it's better not to ask sex from the ex, but to give everything the axe.