Beside my bed, a candle:
One that flickered but never went out,

It only trembled when I looked away,
stood tall beneath my gaze.
Or maybe it never shuddered

Maybe I mistook the flicker
for a windborn twitch.
How can I be sure?
I never saw.
I never knew.

The flame looked hesitant,
like silence between words-
a stack of letters
unopened, unsent.

Dust sifts through my fingers.
Cobwebs, like tangled thoughts.
The clock ticks, yet the arm is stuck.
Stillness grows louder.

I stand-
By the door.
Never enter,
Afraid.

What if the other side
is only a shadow
of what can’t be,
anymore?

How can I be sure?
I never knew.
I never will.
I never saw the flicker,

There is a compass buried in my chest,
its arrow rusted in place-
fixed on a moon I’ve never touched,
but always felt.
The needle forged in my heart only knows one direction.

Stitched from longing,
Or an ache’s pull?
I cannot tell.
It’s Ineffable,

Like faint whispers gliding on a summer breeze,
Streetlights glowing softly,
Stars fading into the night,

But my glasses are rose tinted.

Behind them,
the moon is veiled with clouds
It’s shimmer is dimmer.
The streetlights flicker,
the stars retreat.

The compass within me is faltering,
It’s needle trembling, pointing south.
I reach for you
but my hands are met with static,
a distortion that blurs your warmth,
sealing me off from your touch.

My hands ache for what they’re denied
A stale hush,
thick as smoke,
Makes every breath feel tight,

I watched you go
whilst the words
lingered
on my chest.

The needle fades.
One day,
I’ll ask
if the moon was ever real.

Morning birdsongs,
soft enough to miss,
but once heard,
impossible to forget.

They stitched their way
through the stillness of my soul,
teaching my chest
something more
than just
survival.

They led me to a gentle horizon
where stillness transcends all,
yet showed me
even the sun must rest.

A hush fell where the birds once sang,
the golden illumination faded
into a night so silent
empty.

The moonlight shrouded
by thick blankets of gloom,
and I wonder
why this had to end?

But the tide held my hand,
told me not to fight the moon,
to dance with it.

The starlight glimmered,
kissed my cheek with a pacific indifference
and led me
from slumber deep,
to a waking eye.

In the first light,
I found your song again,
not in the air,
but in the pulse of my breath

and in the quiet of the dawn,
I realised that love never leaves;
love transforms.