Have you ever held your death in your hands?
Felt the weight of the Walther PPK?
Felt the weight of eyes watching you on the dance floor, counting your every step, anticipating your every move?
There is a story I want to tell, of uncounted dates, of unrecorded phone calls between persons unnamed.
The story of “what if…” recounted in late-night television shows of unmemorable acting.
Waiting for alcoholic breaths to taper off into snores of forgotten tales.
Of looks between sets of eyes.
Caribbean shores and exotic beaches.
Warm waters and hot decks.
Dance floors scuffed and beds untucked.
Monasteries swept cleaned and religious texts rubbed raw.
Emotions untouched by the day/night of time.
Have you ever counted the seconds of your life or the 13,596 days of your remaining breaths?
How many sunrises or sunsets have you left?
Have you ever imagined the number of kisses you’ll make before you die?
The times you’ll say “I love you”?
Or grammatical errors you’ll miss?