Lonely Saturday Night

The clock hums soft in the corner’s glow,
While raindrops whisper what I already know.
The streets outside are quiet, still,
And shadows dance against my will.

The TV flickers—just noise, no sound,
A hollow laugh, an empty round.
I pour a drink, then set it down,
No toast to make, no one around.

Old records spin their weary tunes,
Echoing ghosts beneath the moon.
Each note a memory, slow and sweet,
Of faces gone, of hearts that beat.

The couch remembers better days,
Of tangled limbs and lazy haze.
Now just a seat, a silent throne,
For one who hates to be alone.

Outside, the city’s pulse is faint,
Its rhythm blurred, its color taint.
But in this room, the world stands still—
A quiet ache I cannot fill.

So I sit with time, my only friend,
Waiting for this night to end.
And though tomorrow brings new light,
I’ll still recall this lonely night.