The Night Is Here to Carry You

I walk through silence,

but the silence isn’t empty,

it scratches my skin,

it chews my breath,

like a wound remembering its shape.

I light nothing—

not a lamp, not a cigarette,

just this body glowing faintly,

like a match that never caught fire.

Somewhere inside,

a voice whispers,

stay, bleed slow,

the night isn’t here to kill you,

the night is here to carry you.

And so I sit,

with no answers,

only this heart—

beating like it owes me nothing,

but still refusing to stop.