I wish I could find the lost time
that would lead me
to your used dreams.

I try with all my strength
to feel the indifference
of signposts.

My body, abandoned to fate
in the fifth corner of the clock,
today collides
with next year's illusion,
for which I will not be able
to be reborn.

There is little enough time left
to put a juicy dot
and start another farewell letter.

I will find in you that despised
morning that took away
my deadly future.
Perhaps one evening
I will understand
the power
of your recalcitrant distance.

I will write a poem on your back
that will not scare this year's
tears away.

I am the silence
which prays to your words.