It lives beneath my ribs, a spark, a quiet shadow in the dark.
I’ve felt its weight before I spoke, its presence is steady, never broken. It hums in rooms i cannot leave,
In corners where my thoughts deceive. A whisper soft, yet edged with pain,
A gentle echo I cannot feign.
It drifts with the wind through open doors, it traces cracks across the floors.
A constant friend, both sharp and kind, a tethered pulse within my mind.
Through the years it bends, yet does not break, a silent gift i cannot shake.
Its touch is cold, its flame is near, an ache I’ve cherished all these years.
And when the night folds in its weight, I hold it close, I do not hate.
An emotion I have always known reminds me I am never alone.
