She

She says "I can't see myself investing time in this, in us..." I looked at her and thought. "All I invested was time..."
We have time only up until we don't. Time with her passed easily, even incessant arguing was beautiful.
Was I just looking to pass time?
"Time passes easily with you," another thought that I wouldn't vocalize. Too many ways that statement could be taken wrong. I meant it as a compliment, but women like time to stand still when you see them.
Stasis to me is torture.
"When I was lonely, time passed as fast as frozen molasses through a kinked hose, but you baby, you're a pink rose, blossoming in the sludge that I carry, why can't we be merry....."
Do not fucking say that, poetry wouldn't be appropriate right now.
"Tim, do you understand what I mean?" she asks looking deep into my eyes.
Hers are green with orange flecks, fresh cut kiwis spattered with clementine shrapnel. There's a darkness in there. Her dark streak is what got me, a fair-skinned beauty with a meanness to her. She was a conqueror, my heart lay under siege.
Say something.
"You say my name like it has a bad taste," I respond. I'm stalling. I know exactly what she's saying, I know what she's saying because I've heard it out of other's mouths before.
In my head I calculate her words, "can't, myself,invest,time,us" = I'm broken, you hurt me, this is a waste, it's you.
"That wasn't the question Tim", she sighs. Her phone vibrates on the night stand and she makes no motion towards it. Now I know I'm fucked. She's the only girl I've ever loved that never called me Timmy.
"I know...." Stall. Save this. Now I look to freeze time and my mind begins to wander, look at her eyes, look at her beautiful hair, look at her nose and how it sits on top of her mouth, the permanent downward turn her lips take at either side, her hands, delicate but they can deliver a mean slap. Her body, her shape.
Fight to grasp another second here.

When I first saw her, I looked 4 times, a double-double take. I was working a venue, she was dancing.
"A girl like that'll never talk to you Tim." I thought out-loud, my voice drowned out by the music.

"I have real goals Tim and I don't want to end up supporting you." She talks to me now.
Reality rushes in, what "could've been" dissolves into what "is", and what "has been".
I'm never tongue tied. She's made me soft, all that she is envelopes the facade of who I wish to be. She's a gentle mist, entering the cracks. She turns cold and potholes form.
Crumbling, I whisper "I understand, I'm gonna go..."
"Do you not feel anything? Don't you have anything to say?"
Say something, she wants you to tell her how you feel. Share. Go on.
"Thank you."
She's mad now, "For what?"
"Your time, the words I uh, know how difficult I can be..." I stutter like a child as the moment slips, the warmth of the room dissipates and I can see the light in her eyes dim.
"Oh"
I turn the doorknob and show my love, my back.
I cry during the walk home and decide it's her fault. It's her fault is what I tell myself, the tears stop. The anger stops the tears, the cold night clears my thoughts.
"Fuck" I know the truth.