Dancing to Skipping Records

The ticking clock lies,
Grinning sickly between us,
Twitching its tail while we stare,
Through twisted metal fences.

The barbs cut our grasping hands,
But we understand scarification is just,
Your tattoo bleeding through.

Another decade has aged this place,
Now our heartbeat has no home,
Every breath has a sharp sting in,
And I am reluctant to let go.

Though my ears ring with the silence,
Of years between hearing you laugh,
It will always be my favorite song.