Dark Birth

Dark Birth

I didn’t know I could still burn.

My chest was a crypt,

sealed with ancient dust.

And you arrived—

not as light,

but as a shadow breathing close.

Now love is not gentle.

It is hunger.

It is vertigo.

It is this feral need

to feel you even in absence.

I tremble.

Because what is new always hurts.

And what hurts…