A Pulse That Splits

Time whispers warnings
through my body
long before the body
knows why.

My bones murmur 
in the dark.
They count:
minutes, hours,
months, years.
Their math is impeccable.

Ruthless
Intimate.

These are days
my heart races ahead of me
and days it lags behind.

It is rarely punctual
but always honest.

My pulse forks, 
one beat for the body
one for the unseen life
I might have lived
if even one choice
had been different.