Dust

your ivory face
a canvas
for the etching of seconds
of time
ghostly pallor
it becomes apparent
you hide from the sun when it shines

you're flinching at the doorbell
fighting off the hours
sucking in your stomach
when the atmosphere turns sour

your fingertips moisten
as the noise inside erupts
the silence of your soliloquy 

deafens me

pupils locked on the second hand
flicker as it ticks
barely perceptible
among the dancing dust
you wish 

and years from now
you will recall
this was how I gained your trust:

don't wish your life away
my dear;
one day
we'll both
be dust