I’ve met the night a hundred times—
She carries no remorse,
Her silver hand upon my chest
A silent, steady force.
Her breath is like a frozen hymn,
Too soft for earth to hear—
Yet chills my soul, and bends my will
Until it disappears.
I sought to end the endless ache
With shadows on the wall,
But shadows only shift and shrink,
And answer not my call.
There is no mercy in the stars,
No kindness in the frost—
Yet some persist to claim that light
Redeems what has been lost.
End me, then, O faithful dark—
Unbind this brittle form,
And leave me not to linger here
Through one more bitter storm.