phantom worlds

pink roses on open book with arabic text — Photo by elaf on Pexels.com

Ink the Bleeds

It is the quiet room I build at midnight
when the heavy world is finally fast asleep,
a bridge between the shadow and the sunlight,
and a vault for all the secrets I must keep.

It is a tapestry of dark and ancient magic,
where urban realms and phantom worlds collide,
a canvas for the sweeping and the tragic,
and the truths we are too terrified to hide.

It is a shield against the weight of long tomorrows,
a way to capture light within the gray,
to anchor joy, to give a voice to sorrows,
and mold the things I can’t simply say.

It is the ink that bleeds when hearts are breaking,
the steady pulse beneath a restless hand,
the quiet art of letting go and making
a world that I can finally understand.