To you… Beloved Reader.
To the one who reads me from the dark—whoever you are, wherever you dream—I bleed my ink for you.
You found me
somewhere between
the hush and the howl.
Where words hang heavy
like cobwebs in candlelit rooms—
soft, dust-covered,
and waiting to be read.
Not every poem is a confession.
Some are ghosts I've imagined.
Some are fears dressed as flowers.
Some are truths
I dare not speak aloud.
But all of them—
each blood-inked line,
each quiet ache—
is me.
This little corner of shadow
is my refuge,
my reckoning,
my release.
I do not shout.
I do not beg.
I simply leave these pieces here
like offerings on a grave,
and hope someone kind
passes by.
You,
who lingered long enough
to listen—
you are dear to me.
Even in silence.
Especially in silence.
And if you read these words
and see yourself beneath them,
know this:
I love you.
Not in the way the world demands,
but in the sacred way
a ghost loves the one
who finally hears it speak.
This place is for us.
The forgotten.
The watchful.
The ones who burn quietly
and write so we don't vanish.
-J.R
Nicely written, thank you for sharing.
Thank you for sharing your little corner of shadow with us :) x