Sometimes, in the silence,
Heaviness stirs— a shadow that falls
In the dim corners of thought,
Soft as breath,
Unsettling as water beneath thick ice.

The nights stretch, blurred and hollow,
As hours slip like sand through fingers,
And shapes emerge in the soft dark,
Figures melting into walls,
Faces flickering like candle smoke.

Thoughts taste of iron and dusk,
Edges sharpened, flickering low,
Where voices speak in whispers
Just beyond reach, breathing shadows,
Half-formed, slipping from sight.

Footsteps echo down empty halls
Of some far-off, unseen place,
A weight that doesn’t ask,
But settles in, familiar, like an old friend
It is not meant to stay— yet it lingers.

In the dim light of sleepless hours,
Where the mind drifts close to a frayed edge,
A quiet spark flickers,
Small as a sigh,
Rising like a thread
Through gathering darkness.