“Whispers in the Dark”
She wears black lace
like a memory stitched to her skin,
delicate but unbreakable.
A silent black cat
rests against her heart,
a secret with golden eyes
that knows her storms by name.
Her gaze does not beg for light.
It has walked through shadows
and returned
with beauty cupped in its hands.
Soft—
but not weak.
Melancholic—
but not lost.
She is the kind of quiet
that listens to fragile things,
the kind of strength
that does not need to be loud.
And in the hush between heartbeats,
she holds the dark gently—
as if it were something
worth loving.