Mysteries of the Night

No one sees the open tabs on midnight screens,

where half‑typed confessions hover in drafts

and courage lives in read receipts.

Streetlamps pulse like unread texts

while confidence blooms in the glow of lock‑screen notifications.

In these hours we chase danger and desire—

a double‑tap that sparks an affair,

a DM that tastes like true love,

anxiety pinging like an overdue a...

you are a mosaic of borrowed light and shadow,

fragments pressed into your skin by hands you loved—

a mother’s lullaby in the tremor of your voice,

a friend’s laughter etched into your bones,

old regrets sharp as glass at your feet.

you stand at the edge of that scatter—

cupping each shard in open palms,

choosing which edges to soften,

which colors to let gleam,

which wounds to smooth with time.

...