Penny always breathed in the deep purple of the midnight sky
and let her tired eyes sweep the horizon with a raging fever.
Her fingers always danced to the tune of the stars
with their multicolored nails and chewed on bits

but what about the clock and it's ticking hands
quickly dissolving the minutes of a precious life
into a pool of waste and sought after memories?

It's left to rot in the time of the moon
with a man wiping his eye of several tears
only to be reminded of the place where
everything fell apart.

That place where the trees in the woods
made frightening shadows
and hung about his face making
wrinkles before he even knew of age.

So why has the eyes of history changed,
with your heart no longer beating
and mine treading full speed ahead
with you nowhere in sight?