The Quiet Bloom
At last, I have found you—
the vessel that twitches, that breathes.
I press myself inward, unknowing,
tunneling through your kept warmth.
I take you from within.
I unfasten the locks of your thoughts,
thread my silence through your nerves,
root myself deep in your marrow.
Your will begins to soften.
Your body learns me.
Your spirit yields like dark soil.
And when motion forsakes you—
when stillness inherits your form—
I claim the silence,
rise through rot and surrender,
named by spores,
newborn in the echo of your death.
(Originally posted to Strangestfiction.com)
