Time’s Quiet Betrayal

The clock stopped at 3:17,

frozen hands stiff beneath spiderwebs,

dust thick as old regrets.

Once it marked every step,

every breath pulled tight with waiting,

heartbeats folded into measured seconds.

Now silence swallows its rhythm,

a stillness too heavy to hold,

a time betrayed,

locked in a single, broken moment.

The tick is gone,

but the empty space it left

beats louder than the clock ever did.