Between Bruises & Blooms

I wasn’t looking
for witchcraft.

I was looking
for somewhere
to put my grief.

The moon
offered me silence.

The forest
offered me shelter.

The abandoned house
offered me stories.

And the witching hour—

it offered me
myself.

Since then,
every morning
I leave behind
footprints
that disappear
with the sunrise.

The world believes
I spent the night
sleeping.

Only the owls
know better.