Make a Wish.

Once I caught the half bell curve

of an drifting eyelash

on the swell of my finger

It slid into the sprawl

of my rigid fingerprints

a puzzle piece slotted neatly in.

I wonder each time they fall

if there is something I missed

If like the petals of the rose they mark

the strands of time that I forgot

and mirror the coming doom.

One by one, at each half-finished tale

each friend that slipped away, each

afternoon spent without thought amidst

the swollen space of the crowded world,

and they work loose and fall

and I am one step closer to the end

the inevitable moment when these

the last slender spears between me

and all the grit of truth

are gone, lost forever on the wind

and my eyes are forced open and raw

blinded by the grinding light.

So let me be careful to blink

and light with the mascara's ink

too soon this soul must sink

beyond the edge of mortal brink.