Eight Weeks

I have time,
But only a little time.
Know, I line up my eyes
Only to line up my eyes
With your time,
With your eyes.

I know I have to go;
Better wait, better wait.
Wanting comes, and goes
On better days.
Bide me and bite your tongue.
Better aim for better things
Than live with what we’ve done,
What timing does.
Don’t make me, don’t make me beg.
Just stay…
On the floor where the phone falls,
--Better days, better days…--
Curled into a ball
With no escape.
I know I have to go;
Better wait, better wait.
I hold time like a phone.
Better wait…