A raindrop trickles down the clock's face, and I know I am alone.
The ticking has seized.
Hope is that wet spot on the pavement you see on a hot day. You arrive to find there is nothing.
A man told me something wise about the past.
I wish I'd written it down.
I grab at clouds but to no avail. The moon is as untouchable as ever.
I've stopped trying to hang sadness with a noose.
It is immortal.