Clock disease
I haven’t loved you for almost four days. I don’t know what is more difficult: loving you or not being loved by you. I am trying not to think what is better: adjusting to you voice or being unconcerned with it. I believe that nothing vanishes off the face of the earth. I also believe that someone else will probably take your place. It is quite natural that I will call him by your name for a long time. Some people are wiser, as they don’t use names but just words like honey and sweet. So, it is easier for them to change the heroes of their life. Unfortunately I’ve got used to your name more than to you.
My life will change in the future. It may happen tomorrow when the rain will stop mourning you, when dry rose petals will lay scattered, when I’ll know that it is not the blues but just winter depression and when I’ll be sure of not being pregnant with you.
But at the moment I am teaching the clock to stop. There is something sensual in the way women’s fingers give commands. In this way you told me to burn and I turned into a thin candle, with the flame breathing hysterically. It was called a striptease. You inflamed more brightly while I was growing thinner and thinner, with my waxen tears mourning your voice. You knew that wax can’t be removed from clothes and leather, didn’t you?
I am ordering the clock to stop once more (It is good that your voice infected me with some notes of command). The clock has cracked and stopped. The only thing you really taught me is to stop clocks. You did it simply by taking out the battery and putting it in front of the clock. It made the clock sick and silent. The poor clock didn’t know that you had a phobia about different kinds of noise especially in the morning. And the best way to get rid of fear is to kill the thing you are afraid of.
Then you were afraid of me because I was able to bring back clocks (I inherited this ability from my grandfather who was a watchmaker). You started ordering me to turn into a naked candle more often. “Shan’t I go out?”- I asked again and again. “How can you? I have stopped time,”- he answered me.
I didn’t know then that all who in love can stop time and it concerns clock’s giggling as well.
The only thing I knew exactly was how to make you stop loving me. I had to become more confident and dressed, as you didn’t like this image.
You disappeared and stole the last battery. Why? Odd fellow! It was silly, as you didn’t want me to forget you.
The clock stopped, time stopped, my memories of you disappeared. What was your name?
I am going out to buy another battery (unfortunately the complicated clockwork was replaced by it. What’s the use of it?) It is night outside. Nevertheless, time was slowly overtaking me. I am hiding my trophy in the pocket. Tomorrow I’d like to be a dummy standing in the window and posing for passersby. So on my way home I’ll arrange it with the shop window.
A couple were walking hand in hand along the road. While passing me, I heard something tinkling at my feet. Could I resemble a beggar? Bending down to asphalt, I saw a tiny battery. It gave me a wink.

Weird. But good. Deep stuff!

Thanks!

I see emotions running down ur words.
good one.

Thanks a lot!