Scraps of Time

I live my life in scraps of time

A life of tepid baths and cold tea, of 

Coffee drunk alone

In the noisy silence of solitude

And my knight errant, come too late to save me 

From swallowing my bitterness of a life too short
Yet already so long

You made a warrior of a worrier
But I still have the wearied nostalgia
Of ransomed squires
And demoiselles en détresse

You hear the nightingale
And claim it for a lark 

You have only ever given me your scraps of time

But caught in your arms

Without permission, without volition

In your scraps of time we are almost one

Jagged breath and warm blood
Scattered staccato hearts

It is the only time you are ever mine

With eyes meeting

Lips almost touching

I see her everywhere

Always ready to remind me

Not of your love

But the love of all those 

You told me, in secret, you detest

It is no secret that they detest me

If only I could see you in worthy arms

If only those arms were mine

I am first and last

Of the thousand things on your mind

First and last in your heart 

I live my life in scraps of time

Yours, and hers, and mine.