Between Here and Gone

The streetlight flickers—

a brief blackout

that stretches longer than the last one.

I sit in dark, the quiet pressing in

like water filling a cracked glass.

I want to vanish,

not with a bang or a good-bye,

but like the light swallowing itself

then coming back,

flicker by flicker,

a ghost caught between breath and silence.

Shadows press fingers against the walls,

touch me softly,

reminding me I’m still here,

but just barely,

like a word

half-spoken

and held in the throat.