The Clock, The Maid: How I Hate Them- Modified

[ScarletMornings]

been awhile since i did something, probably rusty. crit or comments please?
* * * * * *

Suddenly I find us
lost in the changing of our skins
we are slowly conforming to our first impressions
of each other
and yet as they change, we become confused
because the pieces don’t fit like we thought they would
we jarred the cut of the fit when we sliced our fingers on the blade

But
I am slowly coming to realize
comfort doesn’t spell my dreams
and the hands on the clock slipping leisurely
just reinforce the fact that I'm wasting time
and the slower the hands move
the more time it seems I’ve wasted on you
and it feels like I’ve known you forever in a day or two
a couple months later?
you just won’t die, damn it,
and save me the trouble of slitting your throat with my ice-sharp heart
each beat correlating with a pulse of blood dripping down your neck
your smooth, strong neck that I so often pressed sweet kisses to
as I pretended I wouldn’t leave you behind in the end

And every time I finally get to thinking it will work
oh, that damn déjà vu submerges me again
and I’m sleepwalking through old black and white stories
of the woman who ran off and left it all broken
wading through newspaper prints of my past
locked away to molder in the convenient dust of forgetting
until some untidy, vindictive, little maid in my head remembers herself
and does some lazy dusting
just enough to uncover the same boredom, the ennui
and remind me
what we want is only that until its ours
God, you’re making it so easy to want to go

So I struggle against it
remembering, as always, the passion
who doesn’t?
but the wanting is so far gone now
and the maid doesn’t seem inclined to uncover it
I think she’s plotting my downfall again
what am I to do about it?
smash all thoughts of memories away
or the much preferable option of killing you
I'm sorry that it had to end this way
but the damn clock is stretching each moment to infinity
so I have all the time in the world
and nothing to say
why have I grown so cold, darling?
if I only knew
why have I grown so cold?
only the clock and the maid could say

[Robin]

Well, I liked it. I reminded me a lot of Thieves' World - you know that old series? The one that Robert Aspirin and Lynn Abbey and Marion Zimmer Bradley and a whole ton of other people wrote in? Well...that's what it reminded me of. It could be the whole "lost in the changing of our skins" part (Enas Yorl), or the whole theme about wanting to let go of a loved one, but being unable to do so (Lythande and Bercy - Lythande wanted Bercy to love him/her for who s/he was, but Bercy was just enchanted so it was all cool), but something in it just sang of Thieves' World.

The recurring clock imagery was delicious.

[Ramona]

The last two lines are perfect for this piece. I liked it, but the beginning seemed kind of wordy compared o the rest of the poem. Maybe it's just me, though.

[ScarletMornings]

like, just the first stanza? or only certain lines??

[Queen of Rain]

Brilliance dear
Maybe a lil wordy at times but there are some amazing lines in there... I really like the varying rhythm it fits the imagery well..

These lines are a little off in rhythm tho;

and save me the trouble of slitting your throat with my heart
each beat correlating with a pulse of blood dripping down your neck
your smooth, strong neck that I so often pressed sweet kisses to

I think you need a syllable more (preferably an adjective like purple before Heart)..

diction wise I only think "hoot myself in the head, I guess" is the part i don't like.. it jsut doesnt fit the diction of the poem at all..

this;
ust reinforce the fact that I'm wasting time
and the slower the hands move
the more time it seems I’ve wasted on you

is just amaaaazing