Ink & Echo

(mm… mm… ah…)

(breath in… soft exhale…)

(ooh… mmm…)

I was born with weather in my lungs,

Thunder braided through my tongue,

An archive of unfinished prayers

Bound in the cage of my ribs.

(hmm… ah…)

I read the future in rising steam,

In porcelain halos of quiet dreams,

Each passing glance a silver thread

Sewing constellations through my head.

(oooh…)

I speak in undertow and sign(hmm… ah…)

In hairline cracks of the in-between time,

Where silence blossoms, dark and slow(hmm… ah…)

Like midnight gardens no one knows.

ahh… ahh…mmm—ah…

I am ink beneath the skin,

A sacred bruise I’m living in,

Soft as dusk, yet cut like glass,

Holding tight while moments pass.

I love the way the ocean moves the moon —

Unseen force, unwavering tune.

If you dare to sink below,

You’ll find the depths I do not show.

(Ohh… ohh… ahhh…)

Stay beyond the surface shimmer(oh-oh… ahh…)

Past the calm I’ve overgrown,

There’s a current stitched in silver(oh-oh… ahh…)

Running deeper than I’ve shown.

I don’t bloom in sudden fire,

I don’t spill in reckless glow —

I am tide and slow horizon,

Always rising far below.

(hmm… ah…)

I keep a lantern in my chest (oooh...)

For wing-torn souls that need to rest

Feathers trembling in the frost,

Heavy with the names they’ve lost.

(ah… mm…)

I memorize the scent of rain

Before it ever speaks of pain,

You say, “I’m fine,” but in your breath

I hear the fragile hymn of death.

I gather truths like fallen leaves,(oh-oh… ahh…)

Press them flat inside my sleeves,

Every kindness, every scar(Ahhh… ahhh…)

A compass pointing toward a star.

(oh-oh… ahh…)

I am ink beneath the skin,

A quiet war I’m wrapped within,

Tender hands, electric spine,

Balancing on a thinner line.

I love like oceans love the moon —

Silent, faithful, pulling soon.

If you linger, if you stay,

You’ll see the midnight in my day.

Ohhh-ohhh! Ahhh-ahhh!

I won’t forever speak in whispers,

I won’t forever dim the flame,

There’s a thunder in my ribcage

Learning how to shape its name.

You don’t have to strike the lightning,

You don’t have to force the glow —

Even quiet hearts unravel

Into galaxies when they let go.

There’s a cathedral made of breath

Where doubt kneels down beside my faith,

Where hope is threaded, fine and bright,

Through every word I lost to night.

I was never meant for borrowed light —

I bloom where shadow touches night —

AHHH—ohhh—ahhh!

I am ink. I am echo.

I am places I don’t let go.

Soft rebellion, hidden flame,

Never simple, never tame.

Love me slow and love me true —

I will bend the stars for you.

But know my heart is tidal snow:

Deep as mercy —

Dark as crow —

AHHHHH—ahhh—ahhh!