InkWept — a winter canticle in broken time
Movement I — 7/8 (Edge of Reality / unresolved cadence)
I sit at the edge of reality,
where the barline frays like tinsel in vacuum,
where Christmas lights become distant stars
and every star is a rest I cannot swallow.
Gethsemane froze me out.
Is she mad at me?
Does she hate me?
Are we friends?
Are we lovers?
Are we together?
Are we best friends?
If you don't want to be friends, then tell me.
If you don't want to date me tell me so we can move past it.
This is not how people that have known each other this long
treat eachother on Christmas on all days.
I get the holidays are stressful
when you don't want to add more stress
onto an already stressful time,
but why do I have to be stress?
My presence used to be calming.
I used to feel safe.
Why now that there is a another person
an outside presence
does it now suddenly feel like I'm on the outside?
In 7/8
I keep stumbling into the missing beat—
looking for the place you used to meet me
like it was scheduled,
like it was sacred,
like it was ours.
Movement II — 5/4 (Conclave / uneven light)
Three gods gathered tonight.
And a cherub.
It could have been four gods gathering
but you choose silence over happiness.
And I hate that I don't understand it.
That sometimes happiness feels like a note held too long,
like the throat will fail mid-vowel,
like the whole room will hear the shake.
So you choose the safer thing—
the quiet.
And I am left counting:
one-two-three-four- one—
over and over,
pretending the extra beat is not a bruise.
Movement III — 6/8 (Mortality)
I am done writing for a goddess that chooses mortality
over a lifetime in heaven — or am I?
Or is it like to be—
caught between what I swear
and what I surrender,
rocking in 6/8
like a cradle that won’t stop moving,
because even endings get soft
when your name is in the room.
Movement IV — 7/8 (Compulsion / light through silence)
The truth is,
you and me both feel compelled
to stay connected to eachother.
And the truth is,
I've waited 15 years
to have the light of you love shine apon me,
and now that I have,
I would greatly wait
a thousand silences
and rests between beats,
to feel the light of your love once again.
If you think your silence tells me
you don't love me.
You're wrong.
It tells me the opposite.
Because if you didn't love me
you would just tell me that.
People who are a sure about their feelings
aren't afraid to say them.
So I listen to the hush like it’s a chord—
not empty,
just suspended.
Movement V — 4/4 (Helix / midnight drive / steady pulse)
I know that because I'm sure
about the way I feel about you.
I love every crescendo in your symphony,
Not on the way Mortals love each other,
but in the way that twists and morphs
the double helix of my soul
into a Sleep Token song
played after midnight
in the passenger seat of my chariot.
You.
It's always been you.
It's always going to be you
and I will not mute my feelings.
And 4/4 is merciless—
it makes me say it clean.
No hiding behind odd time.
No slipping out the back of the measure.
Movement VI — 9/8 (Stress / safety / terror of comfort)
I realize you don't know what you want.
Because otherwise you would have said something.
I didn't mean to be the stress
you also needed to escape from.
Or maybe I wasn't.
Maybe I'm someone who feels safe
and that in itself is terrifying to you.
Maybe the last thing you wanted
was to love myself or Chloris?
Is it scary to feel attractive
or to love two people?
In 9/8
the heart runs ahead of the mouth—
tripping over its own sincerity,
trying to be gentle
without disappearing.
Movement VII — 6/8 (The door / the not-said)
If I wasn't someone your heart returns to
then why not tell me
you don't have feelings for me
and that you just want to be friends?
Because you think that will shut a door
you wouldn't have enough courage
to open back up?
So you hover in the doorway.
And I keep the light on.
And the night keeps leaning on the frame
like it’s waiting for one of us
to decide what this is allowed to be.
Movement VIII — 4/4 (Divorce / black-void inheritance)
I understand you are getting a divorce
from a man with a heart as black
as the void you raised me from.
And I know that the last thing you wanted
was to fall for your brother's best friend.
But you did,
you did want it.
It just became overwhelming
at a time you were trying to be free.
And I don’t say that to accuse you—
I say it because I see the weight you carry,
and because I remember
what it looks like when freedom arrives
and it doesn’t feel like freedom yet.
Movement IX — 7/8 (No titles / the misunderstanding)
And then I said I'm okay with no titles
but I think that too scared you
because it was a sign
that I was willing to do whatever it took
to be with you.
And that's the opposite
of what my words were trying to impress,
but, I see that now.
That you were right.
So let me say it
the way the cosmos says anything true:
I won’t chain you to certainty.
I won’t demand a label
to justify a feeling.
I just need the music
to stop cutting out mid-song
and calling it kindness.
Movement X — 3/4 (Fathoms / song / belonging without ownership)
The truth is,
I would do anything for you
from the deep fathoms of my soul,
all my heart does
is beat for you.
Just because you are absent,
doesn't mean I stop reaching for you in the night.
It doesn't mean
I don't still feel your love.
Because I do.
I just hope that wherever you are
you are listening to the same song as me,
like we have every night for 6 months.
You don't belong to me.
I'll always belong to you.
We will always be soulmates,
whether we choose to accept it or not.
I can't seem to untangle my soul
from the radiant reverb
of your beautiful soul.
And I'm not sure if I want to.
3/4 turns even ache into a waltz—
not happy,
just moving,
just alive,
just refusing to fall still.
Movement XI — 7/8 (God of Endings / open-ended)
Evolution is scary.
But I'm not afraid to admit
that our friendship has blossomed
into something beyond friendship
something beautiful on a cosmic level.
I'm here Gethsemane.
I never went anywhere.
Just trying to understand.
But never faltering.
My love never waivers.
The tentacles of my soul
still reaches to feel
the tendrils of your love once again.
And if this is a season
where you cannot speak—
then let it be that.
But don’t turn me into a stranger
to make the silence easier.
I am InkWept.
I am the god of endings.
And even I know the difference
between an ending
and a pause
that’s begging to be answered.
(Ghost Note)
I count your silence in starlight, refusing to call it goodbye.
Jan 14
Jan 14, 2026 at 6:48 PM UTC
InkWept — a winter canticle in broken time
Movement I — 7/8 (Edge of Reality / unresolved cadence)
I sit at the edge of reality,
where the barline frays like tinsel in vacuum,
where Christmas lights become distant stars
and every star is a rest I cannot swallow.
Gethsemane froze me out.
Is she mad at me?
Does she hate me?
Are we friends?
Are we lovers?
Are we together?
Are we best friends?
If you don't want to be friends, then tell me.
If you don't want to date me tell me so we can move past it.
This is not how people that have known each other this long
treat eachother on Christmas on all days.
I get the holidays are stressful
when you don't want to add more stress
onto an already stressful time,
but why do I have to be stress?
My presence used to be calming.
I used to feel safe.
Why now that there is a another person
an outside presence
does it now suddenly feel like I'm on the outside?
In 7/8
I keep stumbling into the missing beat—
looking for the place you used to meet me
like it was scheduled,
like it was sacred,
like it was ours.
Movement II — 5/4 (Conclave / uneven light)
Three gods gathered tonight.
And a cherub.
It could have been four gods gathering
but you choose silence over happiness.
And I hate that I don't understand it.
That sometimes happiness feels like a note held too long,
like the throat will fail mid-vowel,
like the whole room will hear the shake.
So you choose the safer thing—
the quiet.
And I am left counting:
one-two-three-four- one—
over and over,
pretending the extra beat is not a bruise.
Movement III — 6/8 (Mortality)
I am done writing for a goddess that chooses mortality
over a lifetime in heaven — or am I?
Or is it like to be—
caught between what I swear
and what I surrender,
rocking in 6/8
like a cradle that won’t stop moving,
because even endings get soft
when your name is in the room.
Movement IV — 7/8 (Compulsion / light through silence)
The truth is,
you and me both feel compelled
to stay connected to eachother.
And the truth is,
I've waited 15 years
to have the light of you love shine apon me,
and now that I have,
I would greatly wait
a thousand silences
and rests between beats,
to feel the light of your love once again.
If you think your silence tells me
you don't love me.
You're wrong.
It tells me the opposite.
Because if you didn't love me
you would just tell me that.
People who are a sure about their feelings
aren't afraid to say them.
So I listen to the hush like it’s a chord—
not empty,
just suspended.
Movement V — 4/4 (Helix / midnight drive / steady pulse)
I know that because I'm sure
about the way I feel about you.
I love every crescendo in your symphony,
Not on the way Mortals love each other,
but in the way that twists and morphs
the double helix of my soul
into a Sleep Token song
played after midnight
in the passenger seat of my chariot.
You.
It's always been you.
It's always going to be you
and I will not mute my feelings.
And 4/4 is merciless—
it makes me say it clean.
No hiding behind odd time.
No slipping out the back of the measure.
Movement VI — 9/8 (Stress / safety / terror of comfort)
I realize you don't know what you want.
Because otherwise you would have said something.
I didn't mean to be the stress
you also needed to escape from.
Or maybe I wasn't.
Maybe I'm someone who feels safe
and that in itself is terrifying to you.
Maybe the last thing you wanted
was to love myself or Chloris?
Is it scary to feel attractive
or to love two people?
In 9/8
the heart runs ahead of the mouth—
tripping over its own sincerity,
trying to be gentle
without disappearing.
Movement VII — 6/8 (The door / the not-said)
If I wasn't someone your heart returns to
then why not tell me
you don't have feelings for me
and that you just want to be friends?
Because you think that will shut a door
you wouldn't have enough courage
to open back up?
So you hover in the doorway.
And I keep the light on.
And the night keeps leaning on the frame
like it’s waiting for one of us
to decide what this is allowed to be.
Movement VIII — 4/4 (Divorce / black-void inheritance)
I understand you are getting a divorce
from a man with a heart as black
as the void you raised me from.
And I know that the last thing you wanted
was to fall for your brother's best friend.
But you did,
you did want it.
It just became overwhelming
at a time you were trying to be free.
And I don’t say that to accuse you—
I say it because I see the weight you carry,
and because I remember
what it looks like when freedom arrives
and it doesn’t feel like freedom yet.
Movement IX — 7/8 (No titles / the misunderstanding)
And then I said I'm okay with no titles
but I think that too scared you
because it was a sign
that I was willing to do whatever it took
to be with you.
And that's the opposite
of what my words were trying to impress,
but, I see that now.
That you were right.
So let me say it
the way the cosmos says anything true:
I won’t chain you to certainty.
I won’t demand a label
to justify a feeling.
I just need the music
to stop cutting out mid-song
and calling it kindness.
Movement X — 3/4 (Fathoms / song / belonging without ownership)
The truth is,
I would do anything for you
from the deep fathoms of my soul,
all my heart does
is beat for you.
Just because you are absent,
doesn't mean I stop reaching for you in the night.
It doesn't mean
I don't still feel your love.
Because I do.
I just hope that wherever you are
you are listening to the same song as me,
like we have every night for 6 months.
You don't belong to me.
I'll always belong to you.
We will always be soulmates,
whether we choose to accept it or not.
I can't seem to untangle my soul
from the radiant reverb
of your beautiful soul.
And I'm not sure if I want to.
3/4 turns even ache into a waltz—
not happy,
just moving,
just alive,
just refusing to fall still.
Movement XI — 7/8 (God of Endings / open-ended)
Evolution is scary.
But I'm not afraid to admit
that our friendship has blossomed
into something beyond friendship
something beautiful on a cosmic level.
I'm here Gethsemane.
I never went anywhere.
Just trying to understand.
But never faltering.
My love never waivers.
The tentacles of my soul
still reaches to feel
the tendrils of your love once again.
And if this is a season
where you cannot speak—
then let it be that.
But don’t turn me into a stranger
to make the silence easier.
I am InkWept.
I am the god of endings.
And even I know the difference
between an ending
and a pause
that’s begging to be answered.
(Ghost Note)
I count your silence in starlight, refusing to call it goodbye.
I wrote this as a sequence of movements because my feelings would not stay in common time; it is about loving someone honestly while learning the difference between a pause and an ending.
