The night stopped between my shoulders
and told me not to wait for something
already erased.
The wind beats between our windows —
don’t you hear its fury?
A shortened step, framed behind glass.
A hurried heart, its pulse caught between breaths.
The cold burns through clothes,
but if I tell you to look at me
beyond the walls —
will you come?
Oct 28, 2025
Oct 28, 2025 at 5:58 PM UTC
The night stopped between my shoulders
and told me not to wait for something
already erased.
The wind beats between our windows —
don’t you hear its fury?
A shortened step, framed behind glass.
A hurried heart, its pulse caught between breaths.
The cold burns through clothes,
but if I tell you to look at me
beyond the walls —
will you come?