Darkwood, breathe low—
moonlight drips from a broken bough.
I follow the frost where your footprints fade,
every step a black hymn I still know by heart.
Shadows knit their crown around my head;
I wear it like love that forgot how to burn.
In the hush between owl and ache,
your name grows teeth, gnawing the hour.
If dawn ever finds this kingdom of rust,
let it find me already dissolved—
a ghost in your thorns, singing stay.