Introspection

Yesterday's echoes, lingering thoughts, stolen glimpses.
The clock ticks, but the hourglass spills nothing.
/whispered/words

She knew tomorrow would arrive, but today was suspended.
Silent pleas, only understood by shadows.
A door unopened, a secret untold.
/lost/paths

Fingers trace the outlines of possibilities not chosen.
The smell of paper and ink; stories wish to be.
/unspoken/secrets

They spoke in colors—vivid yet distant.
Rain taps the window, a rhythm none can dance to.
/silent/symphonies