the long night

Sometimes silence sounds louder than music. Especially the kind that comes from exhaustion, when the body still remembers the pain and the soul doesn't want to return. Here, the morning smells like metal, and your pulse beats like a hammer in the air. Everything seems blurred: between escape and return, between anger and tenderness, between the desire to dissolve and the fear of disappearing completely.

There is a strange comfort in this darkness - as if someone were stroking your cheek while you burn in your own fever dream. The world does not become kinder, but it lets go. Just for a moment. Only to return - slightly different, with a new heartbeat, a little less than yesterday.