It came softly, like the hush before rain,
filling the spaces between my ribs.
A whisper, a weight, a knowing,
settling into the marrow of my quiet.

It sat with me through sleepless nights,
curled in the corners of untouched rooms.
A shadow that never cast its own,
a breath I never exhaled.

For a time, I let it stay.

But the wind began to change.
A voice called from beyond the hush,
laughter leaked through the cracks,
footsteps echoed, two, then more.

Fingers traced forgotten constellations,
morning light bled gold into the grey.
And the hollow guest, once so certain,
kicked out in the light lines
Between the door and dawn.

It has not knocked again.