In the hush between the heartbeats,
I inhale the silver dusk,
exhale the weight of names I never chose.
Moonlight stitches quiet wounds,
each breath a tide pulling ghosts from my ribs;
they dissolve like salt in warm wind.
I am hollowed, I are filled—
a glass flute the sky keeps playing.
Higher, lighter,
until only the echo of pulse remains,
a lantern of pure Now
swinging open the night.