The Secret Hour

You won't remember anyway. Those few hours that we lay together. Silent. Our eyes talking away. The next day bringing rain. The next day bringing pain. Just as the snow erases your footsteps so will it erase our moments together. I would say I was happy to forget with you. I would say it does not matter anymore. But pinky-promises don't count for nothing, especially when I look into your eyes, they surely mean something. And I can't pretend not to care. This world is devoid of understanding. Karma swings it is hollow club once again. Even though I'm not sitting in a bar like Mac or Buddy, I'm still lighting matches to burn the tips of my fingers. But this is the world. Have Faith.

Isn't it strange, how only a few words can derail a train and bring the world screeching to a halt. How only a few hours can mean so much and except for the circumstances be meaningful forever.
Just imagine it as a secret. One for you and me. One to whisper after dark like schoolchildren at a sleepover. It would have ceased to exist. As time marches on in this world, a few hours would have vanished all together. With only us knowing where they had gone.

It does not matter what happens in an hour that does not exist. But to me, it matters more than anything in an hour that does not exist. Because you won't remember anyway. And if it was all a dream, I'd like to hallucinate again. I'd like to share a secret with you in an hour that doesn't exist. Let's take that hour and spend it on the other side. I know you can't resist.

And once time begins again. From midnight to thirteen back to one. You won't remember anyway. And even though your memory won't come back. That lost hour is all I want to keep.

And once the clock resumes its dreadful ticking, once you have left our secret in the dark. I will go with the flow. I'll throw out my pinky and promise to take life slow.

Can you believe it? Can you conceive it?

But it's possible I won't be able to resist.
And I'll keep looking for that hour that doesn't exist.