Borrowed Time

How can a heart

hold the door open with one hand

and lock it with the other?

How can someone give

in public

soft words,

nods,

promises

then take everything back

in the quiet moments

where it actually matters?

You say you care.

You say you’re there.

You say anytime you need me.

But time

is the one thing

they don’t have much of.

Minutes aren’t loose change.

Days aren’t endless.

Every breath is counted,

every sunrise a fragile loan

and still,

you hesitate.

Selfless when it looks good.

Selfish when it costs you.

You show up when it’s easy,

when it fits your schedule,

when it doesn’t ask you

to sit with the truth

or feel uncomfortable.

But love

real love

doesn’t wait for convenience.

It doesn’t ration compassion

or delay kindness

until tomorrow

that might never come.

Because when time is thinning,

silence is loud.

Absence is cruel.

And hesitation

can hurt more than honesty ever could.

So don’t call it care

if you only give it halfway.

Don’t call it love

if you protect yourself

more than the person

running out of time.

Some moments

don’t come back.

Some chances

don’t repeat.

And one day,

when the clock finally stops,

you’ll have all the time in the world

to wonder

why you didn’t give more

when it mattered most.