And The Clock Ticks No More Poem by Chris Zachariou

All that's yours neatly packed
and all that's mine on the floor;
nothing much to show for a life.
You've taken all that I ever was
and everything that was ever mine.

The life we shared
is now buried in a scrapbook
you choose to leave behind.

An act of kindness I thought
at first, but I die when you say
history should be left between
its covers;
and then I die a little more
when you tell me he is waiting
in the street to drive you home.

I run to the window and watch you
vanish into the darkness of the street.
All you leave behind are footsteps
but soon they'll be covered in fresh snow
and you'll be gone for ever from my life.

I plunge into a pit of silence with
no colours but shades of black and grey.

I drink some more wine and stare
at the rainbow of the in my palm of my hand.
The road to oblivion beckons
and the clock ticks no more.