The night, young and  already passing
Never meant to be held for long
Brings a symphony of quiet sounds
Empty and cold against the backdrop
Of cold and unpersonal city lights

Bottles clink and echo in a silent backstreet
As shells of a night's earnings get discarded in a dumpster
And the radiator drips and drops
Accompanied by the sound of a ticking clock

Seconds string together moments
And they're always already gone

Before me the future stretched out
Once broad and promising
Now small and narrowing
It's promise unkept,
Abandoned on the verge of bitter forgetfulness

So what is it
That still hangs on
Is it hope, hamstrung
Stubbornly limping along

The moments know to always let go
And in the eye of the universe
I have already gone

Yet something clings on
And it is hesitant
frail and bashful
Afraid but wanting
Burning to be felt

In my mind resentful
Something splits apart
And I am holding now
Two handfuls
Of something that used to beat a heart