Darkness Without Memory

The candle flickers,

a pale circle bleeding into shadows

that swallow the room.

No hum of bulbs, no buzz

from screens left cold and blank.

The night stretches long,

empty except for the slow drip

of silence, and distant sirens

threading through the black.

Time slows, thick and slow,

the walls lean in closer,

breathing shadows that taste like absence.

Outside, a stray dog barks—

a brief crack in the quiet

before the dark folds tight again.