Time haunts softly
it waits.
It does not knock.
It lingers
in the corners you forget to clean,
in mirrors you glance past too quickly.
It will haunt you
with the same patience
you once used to delay your becoming.
In the coffee that cools,
in the inbox left unread,
in the clock that ticks even when you sleep.
And when it comes to collect,
it will not shout.
It will only stand there,
holding every second
you thought you could spare.
Time keeps the ledger.
It counts every look avoided,
every word unsaid,
every door not opened.
It does not chase
it surrounds.
Time is the silence
you mistook for permission.
And when it names you,
it won’t be with voice
but with everything
you almost became.
May 19, 2025
May 19, 2025 at 3:54 PM UTC
Time haunts softly
it waits.
It does not knock.
It lingers
in the corners you forget to clean,
in mirrors you glance past too quickly.
It will haunt you
with the same patience
you once used to delay your becoming.
In the coffee that cools,
in the inbox left unread,
in the clock that ticks even when you sleep.
And when it comes to collect,
it will not shout.
It will only stand there,
holding every second
you thought you could spare.
Time keeps the ledger.
It counts every look avoided,
every word unsaid,
every door not opened.
It does not chase
it surrounds.
Time is the silence
you mistook for permission.
And when it names you,
it won’t be with voice
but with everything
you almost became.
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